


What happens in Vegas

by kellsbells



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8555419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellsbells/pseuds/kellsbells
Summary: Fic is based around the crap romantic comedy, What happens in Vegas. Myka is dumped by her fiance, Sam, and goes to Vegas with her friends to blow off some steam. Things do not go as planned. Here be swearing and sex and generally adult stuff. Plot is a bit farcical, for which you can blame the movie. :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well. It’s been quite a week, and while I have quite a bit more of my other fic, Dirty Little Secrets, written, I didn’t really feel like editing and posting something that deals with elections in the US just now. I hope you’ll forgive me. I’ll post a new bit of it soon(ish), I promise.

_Las Vegas, Saturday morning, 10am_

 

The sunlight streaming through the window was cutting directly into her brain via her optic nerve. She tried to turn her head, but the resultant nausea had her rolling onto her side. She fell out of bed and ran into the bathroom, barely taking in her surroundings as she did so. She was in a hotel room, she noted distantly, but she thought little else for a while, throwing up impressive amounts for the next ten to twenty minutes. When her system was entirely empty of food and liquid, she washed out her mouth several times, brushed her teeth, and then washed her mouth out again. She heard a moan from behind her, back inside the hotel room. It made her jump. She hadn’t been aware that she had company. She hadn’t been aware of much since waking.

 

As she stepped into the room, she noted that there was someone under the covers, next to where she’d been sleeping. In the same bed, to be precise. But Sam had just broken up with her, and she was here in Vegas… why was she here, in Vegas? Oh yeah. Because she was heartbroken, and because Pete and Leena insisted she had some fun.

 

“Hello?” she said, quietly. “Hello? Person in bed with me?”

 

She poked at the body under the covers experimentally, and was rewarded with another groan.

 

“Go away,” the person under the covers said. In a distinctly sulky English accent, the vowels rich and full. And it was female. Myka didn’t remember a woman. She didn’t really remember anything, though, so she supposed it didn’t make much difference. And hey, at least this way she didn’t have to worry about a pregnancy scare, right? Probably. Though it might be an idea not to jump to conclusions, given the circumstances. She had been _very_ drunk, and this was Vegas.

 

She poked at the covers again, and the English woman grunted something about sodding off. Myka smiled. She had always enjoyed the English accent and their whole vocabulary thing. With the sodding and the bollocks. It was really cute. On the right person, of course - which begged the question: who the hell was this woman?

 

Myka pulled the covers down, carefully so as not to embarrass anyone. She was dressed in her usual bedtime attire – shorts and a tank, but she didn’t know if her bedpartner was. The woman was a mass of black hair that was probably sleek and beautiful normally. At the moment, she looked a bit like Cousin It, and Myka was pretty sure that she could see a small pool of drool next to the woman’s head.

 

“Are you trying to kill me?” the woman demanded. She sat up and then groaned. She pushed some of the hair back from her face and looked up at Myka with one eye open. Myka almost gasped. Even with one eye closed and her hair in disarray, she was quite possibly the most stunning woman Myka had ever seen.

 

“Sorry,” Myka said. “I just figured we should probably get up. And you should probably, like, go back to your own room?”

 

“I beg your pardon?” the woman asked, and now she was throwing her hair back out of her face, staring haughtily at Myka with both eyes open. “Is this how you treat all your overnight guests?”

 

Myka shrugged, her face starting to heat up.

 

“I don’t do this sort of thing, normally, and honestly, I don’t even remember you,” she said. The woman raised an eyebrow.

 

“You don’t remember anything? Well, I must be losing my touch,” she said, with a hint of a smirk, and Myka’s stomach flipped over lazily. She had confidence, Myka would give her that. And she was hot. So, so hot. Like, model hot.

 

“I don’t normally drink so much,” Myka said. “I’m sure you were great, I just – I can’t remember anything.”

 

The woman pouted.

 

“Just great? I really am losing my touch,” she said. “Would you mind if I at least used the bathroom before you throw me out?”

 

“Sure, of course,” Myka said. It was the least she could do, right? Plus, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the woman to go, now. She was… interesting.

 

“Could I borrow something to wear?” the woman asked, indicating her bare shoulders. Myka reddened and went to her bag, pulling out a t-shirt and shorts and passing them to the woman, turning her back to give her privacy. She heard the woman laugh delightedly as she turned, and ground her teeth for a second. She was trying to be polite, for Christ’s sake. Since when was that funny?

 

The woman was in and out of the bathroom in ten minutes or so, returning wrapped in a bathrobe with her hair wet. She really was stunning, and Myka tried not to stare, but she had to admit that it was difficult to look away.

 

“Well. I do feel better after that,” the woman exclaimed, holding a hand out to Myka. They shook hands, and she introduced herself. “Helena Wells, since you’ve obviously forgotten. And you are Myka,” she said, thoughtfully.

 

“How do you remember anything?” Myka asked.

 

“I think I just handle my liquor a little better than you do,” Helena said, with a smile. Myka shrugged.

 

“I don’t normally drink much; I just had a bad week,” she said, and Helena nodded.

 

“I know. Your boyfriend, Sam was it? He sounds like a right pillock, by the way. Unworthy of you.”

 

“Well. Thank you,” Myka said. Clearly, she’d talked to this woman about Sam. Why didn’t she remember anything?

 

“You’re quite welcome. You can obviously do better,” Helena said, again with the smirking, and Myka didn’t know whether to find it endearing or infuriating. It was sexy, however, and she took a deep breath to settle herself.

 

“Should we go and get some breakfast?” she asked, and Helena nodded.

 

“Let me just find my clothes,” she said, wandering around the room picking up discarded items, including an extremely skimpy g-string. Myka blushed again, turning away and ignoring the snort from behind her.

 

_Bellagio Casino and Hotel Buffet_

 

The woman – Helena – filled her plate at the breakfast buffet with sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs and hash browns. Myka gave her a disgusted look and picked up some non-fat yoghurt and fruit, giving in enough to her growling stomach that she grabbed a slice of cinnamon French toast. They sat down and a moment later Pete, Leena and two people Myka didn’t know (but who looked vaguely familiar) appeared to join them, as if from nowhere.

 

“Hey guys, nice to see you both – did you have a good night?” Pete asked with a wink. Myka scowled at him. She hated it when she had been the one who was out of control – normally it was Pete who did stupid things. He didn’t drink or do drugs, but still managed to get himself in ridiculous situations on a fairly regular basis.

 

“It was… well, honestly, I’m not sure,” Helena said, with a slight frown. “I seem to have a bit of hole in the middle of my memory. I remember meeting you all,” she said, nodding at Pete and Leena and Myka, “but I cannot remember what happened after we finished playing on those slot machines.”

 

Pete and Leena shared wide-eyed looks.

 

“Uh… what about you, Mykes?” Pete asked.

 

“I barely remember a thing,” she said. “I didn’t even know who she was,” she said, pointing a thumb at Helena, who scowled at her.

 

“Oh,” Pete said, and he and Leena shared another look. A more anxious look this time.

 

“You guys don’t remember anything important, then, that might have happened?” Helena’s friend said – a short redheaded girl.

 

“No,” Myka said. “Are we missing something, here?”

 

Helena’s other friend, a short Asian woman who had a huge smirk on her face, looked from Myka to Helena, wearing the face of a person who was about to deliver bad news. And was delighted by the opportunity.

 

“Guys, you got _married_ last night. In that Elvis chapel, you know the famous one? Helena, you told Myka that since her boyfriend had been stupid enough to let her go, you would make an honest woman of her. We did try to stop you,” she said, turning up her palms in a display of helplessness. Myka’s mouth fell open. She had married the hot English woman? The annoying hot English woman? She turned to look at Helena, who was looking at her with an expression of mild horror.

 

“Shit,” Myka said, quietly, and Helena nodded.

 

“Shit, indeed.”

 

Myka looked down at her left hand, wondering how she’d missed it before. It was a band, decorated with beautiful silver filigree and small green stones, making it look like foliage with leaves interspersed through it. It was absolutely stunning.

 

_“To match your eyes,” Helena had said, wearing a pointy paper hat that was entirely askew, her eyes glassy._

The memories came flooding back.

 

_Thursday, New York, the Monterey at Park_

Leena finished icing the cake, her hand steady, and Myka immediately hugged her. Leena was, in so many ways, her rock. With all this weirdness with Sam, she’d been there every time Myka needed her. And now she was helping with this party, even though she plainly thought that Sam didn’t deserve it.

 

“You’re the best friend anyone could ever have,” Myka said, and Leena blushed a little. She and Myka had a thing, once, long before Sam, but it hadn’t worked out. Myka suspected that Leena still had feelings for her, so she was always extra careful with Leena’s feelings.

 

Pete came bounding over, suddenly.

 

“He’s coming up in the elevator. Places, people!” he shouted, and everyone hid behind the couch and the other furnishings. Myka made her way to the door and turned off the lights, stepping into the entryway to wait for Sam.

 

When the elevator doors opened, his face changed from tired and expectant to disappointed. Had he not expected her to be here?

 

“Hey, babe, I’m sorry. I’m really tired, I was just hoping to go to bed,” he said.

 

“I… I thought we should celebrate your birthday, you know?” she said, and he sighed.

 

“Mykes, I… look, I really care about you, and I appreciate all the things you do for me,” he began, and Myka froze. She had heard this particular speech before.

 

“I especially appreciate the things you tried with my butt, you know? It was really nice, and it totally worked for me, just so you know,” he said.

 

Okay. Maybe not this exact speech.

 

“I just think – I think we should take a break. I mean, it’s been great and all, but I want to try to be more spontaneous, and you’re just… you like to make lists all the time, and you’ve got everything planned out,” he continued. Myka’s face was reddening with humiliation and the tears were starting to leak out of her now-closed eyes.

 

“I’m really sorry, Bunny,” he said soothingly, and Myka only just resisted the urge to kick him in the nuts. She must have told him a hundred times how much she hated that fucking nickname, and now he uses it to break up with her?

 

She stepped back and turned the lights on, and everyone slowly stood up from their positions, saying, “surprise!” quietly, and not looking either of them in the eye. Except for Pete and Leena, who were watching Myka in concern.

 

“Happy birthday, Sam,” Myka said quietly and she picked up the bag she’d packed in advance for Vegas, walking out of the apartment and down the stairs. She heard Leena and Pete follow her and when she reached the street, she stopped, because she didn’t have anywhere to go. She started crying in earnest when her friends reached her and wrapped her up in their arms.

 

 

_Leena’s apartment, Lower Brooklyn, later that night_

 

Myka was trying to sleep in the spare room of Leena’s apartment. She had endured one of the worst days she could remember for a long time. She was so tired of her job, tired of not making a difference like she’d promised herself. She only got into finance as a stopgap. She’d run out of money before graduate school, so she took a year out, initially, to save some money. The money was good; she couldn’t deny that. But she was so tired of the cutthroat politics, and there was this promotion coming up, and Sally Stukowski was totally knifing her in the back at every opportunity. And now this thing with Sam. It was as if every part of her life was imploding and she had no control over any of it. She didn’t even have a place to live.

 

The only thing she had going for her was the fact that she had two tickets to Vegas and a booking for a really nice suite. And both Pete and Leena were going to come along. She had a long weekend in Vegas to look forward to, at least.

 

_Bellagio Casino and Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada_

_Friday_

 

It had been a fairly uneventful trip. Leena had taken Sam’s ticket and Pete had bought his own, and he had happily ensconced himself in Economy Class with as much food as he could fit in his hand luggage. Myka was already a little drunk by the time they checked in, and she had a long nap in the incredibly romantic room that she’d booked. Alone. She dressed and met Leena and Pete for dinner, and that’s when they met Helena.

 

“Excuse me, darlings, but I think you’re sitting at our table,” said a wonderfully rich English voice. Myka turned her head and said, with a tight smile, that she didn’t think so. It took an effort not to gasp at how utterly, devastatingly gorgeous the woman was. She was one of the whitest people Myka had ever seen (besides Myka herself, who had the complexion of cow’s milk). But her hair was darkest midnight, and her eyes – well, they looked black but were probably brown. She was wearing a red dress and the contrast with her hair was sinfully sexy.

 

“I’m afraid so. You see, the waiter just showed us to the table, but he got called over to another table before he could seat us. So this is, as you can probably work out, our table,” she said, with a charming smile that Myka saw Pete responding to. He’d probably let her sit on his lap if she asked nicely. Or at all. Myka was pretty sure that she would let the woman sit on her lap, too.

 

“I’m sorry, lady, but a waiter also seated us. We didn’t just walk in and sit down. So maybe you should go find your waiter, and get you and your friends seated somewhere else,” Myka said, this time without a smile.

 

“Well, someone’s uptight! You’re not exactly in the Vegas state of mind, are you?” the woman said, tilting her head, a smirk on her face.

 

“I am in a perfectly fine state of mind, lady. You’re the one trying to muscle in on our table,” Myka said, stiffening. Sam had accused her of sucking the fun out of everything, and now this woman was saying that she was uptight. She wasn’t in the mood. Even if the woman was the most ridiculously sexy person she’d ever met.

 

The waiter finally appeared, apologising profusely for the mix-up, but the woman smiled archly at him and said something about him having to do better than that…

 

The next thing they knew, they were all seated at a larger table overlooking the fountains with promises of free drinks and VIP access to clubs and parties all over the strip. And somehow they were all sitting together – Helena, the gorgeous woman, and her friends Claudia and Abigail. The free drinks helped things along; they all started chatting, and while Pete and Abigail seemed to hate one another, Claudia and Leena were getting on really well. And Helena – well, she had zeroed in on Myka and had turned on the charm. She apologised for her earlier behaviour, and confided that she’d just been fired by her brother.

 

“He’s a writer. Charles Wells? You might know him as HC Wells – he wanted to use my initials but I refused,” Helena explained, leaning close to Myka, her eyes dark but somehow sparkling.

 

“I’ve read like… all of his books!” Myka exclaimed, finishing off a giant cocktail that had 4 or 5 kinds of alcohol in it. She was starting to get really buzzed. “What are your initials?” she asked, her eyes opening wide, her barriers dropping one by one as Helena looked at her as if she was the most interesting person in the room.

 

“HG – Helena George, for my great-grandfather. Charles was always jealous that I got the traditional family initials, but Dad wanted to name Charles after our uncle, so I got to be HG Wells,” she said with a self-deprecating shrug, and Myka leaned forward to listen more intently. “The bugger fired me just because I came in late. Well. I mean, it was the fifth time. That week. And I was overdue with an edit. So I suppose… but he’s my brother,” she said, beginning to slur her words a tiny bit. “He’s supposed to forgive me, just because he wanted to shag that model and she left with me; he’s just bloody jealous,” she said, frowning darkly.

 

They visited six or seven different clubs and bars on the Strip, and by 10.30 Myka was so drunk that she couldn’t see straight. She couldn’t do anything else straight, either, apparently. Helena had been in the middle of a sentence, something about Sam and how he didn’t deserve Myka, and that’s when Myka leaned in a little more and kissed her, and then they were making out like horny teenagers. Horny teenagers on Viagra. They were lucky not to get thrown out. Pete, was very, very appreciative, until Abigail punched him in the crotch. Hard. Then he cried about his ‘guys’ for almost an hour.

 

There was some messing around at a roulette table that Myka couldn’t fully remember, and then the wedding chapel. They bought some sort of package deal with rings included, for Pride month, apparently, and then they got married. Married and drunk and then they were in bed and Myka was having the most incredible orgasms she’d ever had. Helena was totally blowing her mind, and Myka did her best to return the favour. It had been a while since she’d been with a woman, but she had always enjoyed it. Attention to detail was key, she’d always thought, in pretty much any situation. So she listened and observed Helena’s reactions, and was rewarded with some pretty intense screaming from her new wife and a complaint from the front desk about the noise. She giggled as she answered the phone and apologised, then went right back to what she’d been doing before. She wasn’t sure when they both fell asleep, but she was quite sated and Helena had told her, like, seven times that she loved her, so Myka figured that she must have been satisfied too. And then Myka had woken up and thrown up and now she was married. _Married_.

 

 

_The Bellagio, late Saturday morning_

 

“Well. It seems we have a few things to sort out,” Helena said, awkwardly. Myka laughed.

 

“Yeah. I’ll say,” Myka said, staring at the ring on her finger. She couldn’t believe she’d managed to get drunk enough to get married to someone she’d just met. And she couldn’t look at Helena without seeing images from the night before. The marriage part was a huge mistake, but the sex part? That was incredible, an experience she wouldn’t mind repeating. She tried to look at anything but Helena, but her eyes kept wandering back to the woman next to her. She knew her face was red, but she couldn’t seem to stop blushing.

 

They ate in virtual silence, apart from the odd snarky comment between Pete and Abigail, who seemed to hate each other. Myka had never seen Pete like that with anyone; he was normally so nice to everyone. But now that she remembered, Abigail had punched him in his manhood at least twice the night before. After breakfast Myka raised an eyebrow at Helena and nodded, and they left their friends sitting together so they could sort this mess out. They went to stand beside the slot machines, and Helena played a few tokens idly as they stood there.

 

“You know, I had a really great time last night,” Myka began, rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

 

“I did, too. You’ve remembered what happened, then?” Helena asked, with a raised eyebrow, and Myka reddened before nodding.

 

“I had a great night, but you know I wasn’t really looking for anything serious, and then I woke up and we were married, and…”

 

“Are you trying to let me down gently, Myka?” Helena asked, and Myka nodded guiltily.

 

“No need to worry,” Helena said brightly. “I was trying to work out how to do the same thing. Claudia tells me, after a little googling, that we should be able to annul the marriage, what with us being inebriated and all. Does that seem like a plan, to you?”

 

“I… yeah, I guess,” Myka said. She wanted out of this, right? So why did she feel disappointed at the prospect? And upset that Helena was so blasé about it?

 

“Okay, then. I think we could sort it out before the end of the day, if we’re lucky enough to get in to see a judge today,” Helena said, taking her phone from her back pocket and swiping at the screen.

 

“Okay, I got it, Helena. You can’t wait to get away from me,” she snapped, and Helena looked up in surprise.

 

“No, that’s not it, I just… you just said you weren’t looking for anything serious, did you not?” Helena said, her face dismayed.

 

“I… fine. Let’s just get this over with,” Myka said, and Helena nodded, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 

“Look, Myka, I…”

 

A loud voice interrupted her.

 

“Myka Bering?” came a voice from behind them both. Myka turned and found a casino official bearing down on her. He was wearing a wide smile, however, so she gathered that she wasn’t in trouble, at least.

 

“Hi?” she said, confused.

 

“Ma’am, I have your winnings from the roulette table last night. You asked me to keep them for you, so you could go and,” he made quotation marks with his fingers, “marry the crap out of your girl.” He smiled at Helena, and took in their identical rings. “I see that you managed to do that, so I assume congratulations are in order?”

 

“Uh, yeah, I guess?” Myka said, wondering why she had given her winnings to this guy.

 

“If you’d like to follow me to my office, we can bag up your winnings safely,” the official said. Myka looked a little closer – his name was Javier Moran.

 

“Thank you, Mr Moran,” she said, and he turned and smiled at her.

 

“Please, call me Javi. Everyone does,” he said.

 

“Of course. Javi. Thank you,” she said, and found that Helena was following her too.

 

“You don’t need to come along, Helena,” Myka said. “I think I can manage to pick up my winnings on my own.”

 

“Why would he be offering to bag it up for you?” Helena asked, one eyebrow up quizzically. “It must be a lot of money.”

 

“Fine, follow me then. Whatever,” Myka said. They reached the small office and Javi closed it behind them before opening a small safe in the corner and taking out bundles of money. Large, large bundles of money.

 

“Uh – how much money is this, exactly?” Myka asked, wide-eyed.

 

“$3.5 million,” Javi said, offhandedly, as if it was a normal amount of money that they were talking about, and not $3.5 million.

 

“What the…” Myka gasped, and Helena smiled at her.

 

“$3.5 million? She won $3.5 million on roulette?” Helena asked

 

“It was a combination of games, I believe. Blackjack, too. And craps. Don’t you remember?” Javi asked, tilting his head.

 

“I was really drunk last night, Javi,” Myka said.

 

“I was aware of that, Ms Bering, but I had thought that you were sober enough to remember, at least,” he said, smiling. “But that is remarkable – that you managed to gamble so well even though you were inebriated. There was some worry that you might have been counting cards, but the casino manager came down and was satisfied that there was no way someone could count cards when they were that inebriated,” he said, his smile growing wider.

 

“Well, I guess I just had a lucky night,” Myka said, with a shrug. She couldn’t honestly remember gambling ever before in her life.

 

“Would you like me to keep this in the hotel safe for you until you leave?” Javi asked.

 

“I… I’m not sure,” Myka said.

 

“I think that would be a good idea, don’t you, Myka? Keeping it in your room is probably not safe,” Helena said smoothly. Myka was so utterly bewildered that she just nodded, and Javi made a quick call on the phone in his office, arranging for a guard to come and move the cash.

 

“Thank you, Javi,” Helena said, shaking his hand, and she pulled Myka along with her. Myka still hadn’t taken it in. She’d won millions of dollars in a casino. Her life was about to change. And Sam could go and suck it. She was going to have so much fun…

 

“I think perhaps we should rethink our decision, Myka,” Helena said, startling her from her reverie.

 

“What do you mean?” Myka asked, frowning.

 

“I mean, perhaps we were too hasty, in talking about annulments and the like. I mean, we like each other, we have obvious chemistry,” Helena began, but Myka held her hand up.

 

“Wait a minute, Helena. A second ago you were all, like, you weren’t looking for anything serious, and now you want to see where this goes? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I just became a millionaire, now, would it?” Myka asked, and she was seriously pissed when Helena flushed.

 

“I… well. It is a lot of money, and…”

 

“Never mind, Helena. It is a lot of money. But it’s my money, not yours.”

 

“Well. Given the circumstances, I’d say that half of it is mine,” Helena said. “Or is that in California?” she wondered absently.

 

“I don’t think so, Helena,” Myka snapped. “You and I both know that this was a mistake, two people hooking up and doing something stupid when they were drunk. There is no way you’re going to convince a judge that we really meant to get married.”

 

Helena crossed her arms.

  
“We’ll see about that.”

 

 

_Sunday morning, 11am, Clark County Courthouse._

The following morning Myka was glaring at Helena across an almost empty courtroom. Claudia had some sort of hacking mojo that she had worked on various cameras across the strip, and together the pictures she’d printed painted a picture of a couple in love.

 

“Your Honour, we met at dinner on Friday night,” Myka protested. “There is no way that can be considered a basis for a marriage!”

 

“And yet, you chose to marry Miss Wells despite only knowing her for, what – four hours?” the judge asked, his eyebrows raised.

 

“I was inebriated, your Honour,” she said, her voice rising to a whine. “My fiancé broke up with me and I was here drowning my sorrows,” she said.

 

“Am I supposed to be impressed by that, Miss Bering?” he asked, and she dropped her eyes.

 

“Now, if I understand you correctly, you, Miss Bering, managed to win a large amount of money gambling last night, despite your inebriation,” he said severely, glaring at her over his glasses. She dropped her eyes again. This guy clearly had it in for her, and she didn’t want to make it any worse.

 

“And now you and Miss Wells are married, and she wants to try to make this marriage work, and wants you to share the money you made gambling,” the judge went on. Myka nodded and then glared at Helena, who was painting quite the contrite and sober picture in a dress suit and waistcoat, wearing a pair of glasses that Myka was fairly sure she didn’t need. Her own eyes were red-rimmed and her contacts were making them itch terribly. She wished she’d thought of wearing her glasses.

 

“You know, I used to say to idiot people like you that it wasn’t gay people who were spoiling marriage for everyone, it was people who were getting married in Vegas without even knowing each other. And now here you are, proving me wrong. Not only didn’t you know one another first, but you’re a gay couple, and I would have thought that since you were only granted the right to marry a year ago, you might treat marriage with a little more respect!” he ranted, and Myka bit back the comment that she wasn’t actually gay, but bisexual. She didn’t think it would help her, in the circumstances.

 

“I don’t like either of you,” the judge continued, and Helena pouted. Myka snorted in derision, only to drop her eyes again when the judge glared at her. “I don’t feel like being charitable today. So I’m holding your winnings hostage. If you want this money, you’re going to have to prove that you actually tried to make your marriage work. I am sentencing you to 6 months’ hard marriage!” he said, banging his gavel in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion. A few seconds later, they were ushered out of the court and handed some documentation. They had to live together for the next six months and see a marriage counsellor once a week. If they were not considered by the counsellor be working on their marriage, the money would be forfeit. Myka was grinding her teeth; that money was going to pay off her student loans, which at last glance were in the region of $150,000. And her dad’s store was in trouble; she had enjoyed some pleasant dreams (for approximately ten minutes before Helena scuppered them) of paying off his debts and sprucing up the store for him. She could do this; couldn’t she? Her job was hell on earth and she was still there after years. How much worse could it be to live with Helena for six months?

 

Myka hadn’t realised when she left Sam’s apartment that she was now effectively homeless. Helena had a place but it was a studio apartment in the Bronx.

 

“Look, we can’t live in a studio apartment together,” Myka argued. “That’s just ridiculous.”

 

“Well, unless you can afford something better, we’re going to have to, aren’t we?” Helena said with a sneer. Myka only just resisted the urge to slap her.

 

“I swear, Wells, there better be enough room for me to sleep, at least,” Myka said.

 

_Tuesday evening, Helena (and Myka’s) apartment, the Bronx_

Two days later, she was standing in what passed as an apartment in the Bronx. Well. Almost standing, because there was virtually no room anywhere to do anything.

 

“Wait a minute,” Helena said, with a grunt, coming in behind Myka with a box of her belongings. She dumped it on the floor without ceremony, and Myka gritted her teeth. That box had some of her photographs in it and she was pretty sure she’d heard a smash when Helena dropped it.

 

Helena heaved the bed out of the way and it disappeared into the wall. It was an actual bed that folded into the wall.

 

“Is this a real apartment?” Myka asked, actually stunned by the tiny space.

 

“Yes, it is, and it’s all I can afford,” Helena said huffily.

 

It was a far cry from Sam’s place in Midtown. This apartment could have fitted into the bathroom of Sam’s apartment with room to spare. It looked like the kind of place that should smell funny; somehow, however, it didn’t.

 

“You will notice that despite the size of the place, it is actually clean and cockroach and mould-free,” Helena said haughtily.

 

“I did notice. How did you manage that?” Myka asked, impressed despite herself.

 

“I designed a system – well, Claudia helped too,” Helena said, following a loud throat-clearing from the hallway, “to deal with the damp problem, and another device to attract vermin and insects. There is a pest company that come by once a week to empty out the traps outside. They actually paid us a little bit for the design; they’re using it in a couple of other apartments.”

 

“Wow,” Myka said, seriously impressed. “I didn’t know you invented stuff, too.”

 

“Well. It’s just a bit of tinkering,” Helena said, a blush rising from her neck to her face.

 

Myka found herself shoved unceremoniously out of the way as Claudia barged in with the last of her belongings.

 

“Here you go, Mrs Wells,” she said with a sneer, going to dump the last box at Myka’s feet. However, a quiet noise from Leena, who was behind her, made her freeze.

 

“Um, sorry. Here you go, that’s the last of it,” she said, attempting a smile and backing away after placing the last box gently at Myka’s feet. Leena smiled at her and she blushed so brightly that it could have powered the city block for a month. Myka couldn’t help but smile; at least some good had come out of this fiasco. As she looked around the tiny apartment with its tiny bathroom and negligible living space, she wondered how the hell she was going to do this. She needed her space; she was an introvert, most of the time, and there was nowhere for her to go. There was nowhere for anyone to go in this tiny little room.

 

“It’ll be okay, Myka. If you ever need some space, you can come by. I have a spare room that you can use, any time,” Leena said, stepping up beside her and pretty much reading her mind, as usual.

 

“Thanks, Leena,” Myka said, and she noticed that Helena was looking at her worriedly. She glared, and Helena’s face tightened. She flounced across the room to sit on the sofa, turning on some dreadful rock music that Myka didn’t recognise.

 

“What the hell is this crap?” she asked, putting her hands over her ears, and Claudia stuck her head back in the room to glare at her.

 

“It’s my band, dumbass,” she said, with narrowed eyes. Leena coughed quietly and Claudia subsided, backing out of the room.

 

“Okay, guys, we’re going to leave you to it. Good luck. And call me anytime,” Leena said, aiming that last remark at Myka, who nodded.

 

“Thanks,” she said, giving Leena a quick hug and waving vaguely at Claudia. They closed the door behind them and Myka found herself trapped in her new home with her new wife. It was going to be a long six months.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka and Helena are living together, but neither of them are happy with the idea, and so begins a dirty tricks campaign.

_Tuesday evening, Helena and Myka’s apartment_

Their first evening together was quiet, punctuated only by the odd sigh from Helena, who spent the evening drinking some sort of whisky while watching television. Myka sat on the other end of the couch, chatting to Leena online on her laptop. She and Helena talked only when they had to – to get to the bathroom, Myka had to half-climb over the sofa. When she got tired, she asked Helena where she was going to sleep.

 

“You’re sitting on it, princess,” Helena said, with a smile.

 

“Oh, no,” Myka said, shaking her head. “I’m not sleeping on the sofa. I’m too tall to sleep on this thing.”

 

“You’re, what, two inches taller than me?” Helena said, incredulously.

 

“It makes a difference. Plus, if you hadn’t insisted on us staying married, we wouldn’t be having this problem. So you get to sleep on the couch.”

 

“Fine,” Helena said. “But I’m warning you, the bed is not very comfortable.”

 

She wasn’t lying about that. After a few minutes lying on what must be the lumpiest mattress on the planet, Myka was cursing her decision. The couch was looking more comfortable by the second, and by the sound of her breathing, Helena had fallen asleep straight away. Myka cursed her silently, with her wavy hair and sexy body and her beautiful lips… and then she cursed herself. Because Helena was her enemy and wanted to take the money that Myka had won, fair and square. Well. Maybe not exactly fair, since chances were high that she had, in fact, been counting cards. But she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. And Helena didn’t know that she had an eidetic memory.

 

_Wednesday morning, 5.30am_

She was up, as usual, at 5.30. She had eventually drifted off to sleep through pure exhaustion, after 3.30. She went for a run around the neighbourhood park, keeping a close eye out for anyone shady. She had pepper spray in her pocket, just in case. The neighbourhood was a dump; she didn’t know how Helena put up with living here. But then, Helena didn’t have a job anymore.

 

She returned to the apartment at 6, taking a quick shower and then making her normal morning shake. That was when the trouble started. Helena had been fast asleep until she switched on the blender.

 

“Are you bloody mental? What time is it?” she screeched, shooting bolt upright on the sofa. Myka smirked.

  
“Sorry, sweetie, but some of us have to work for a living,” she said smugly. Helena glared at her. Myka smiled to herself the whole way to work – even the horrible journey there on the subway didn’t faze her. She just kept thinking about how pissed Helena was. Was there some way to amplify the sound of the blender, she wondered?

 

When she got home, Helena was fast asleep on the sofa, one of the pillows over her head, with her butt hanging out from under the covers. She was clearly naked except for a bra and a pair of knickers that were mostly wedged in her butt crack.

 

“Married to the woman of my dreams,” Myka muttered to herself. “Well done, Bering.”

 

She made a small meal, making a note to buy some actual fresh food. There were at least some frozen vegetables that she could use to make a pasta dish. She left the remains for Helena and changed into some yoga pants and a t-shirt, flopping onto the end of the sofa and pushing Helena’s feet out of the way. She only grunted and fell asleep again; Myka started watching some of her Netflix queue, enjoying the opportunity to do something that was just for her. After she’d finished her meal, she realised that she was a little itchy. All over. Well, almost all over. The areas covered by her bra and underwear were fine; her legs and trunk and upper arms were itchy and she was squirming around trying to make it feel better. She pulled up her t-shirt and found that her belly was covered in red marks. She thought for a second that maybe she’d eaten something she was allergic to, but she didn’t have any food allergies and she’d eaten all of the ingredients she used in her pasta on previous occasions.

 

She got up and made her way into the bathroom, climbing over Helena carefully. She stripped off her clothes and jumped into the shower, immediately turning the temperature down to sooth the itching. As soon as she washed her skin, the itching subsided. She didn’t quite realise what had happened until she put her clothes back on after her shower and the itching started again. Then…

 

“Helena! Did you put fucking itching powder in my clothes? Are you fucking kidding me?” she yelled, incredulous. She pushed the door open, almost knocking herself out as it rebounded off the couch and nearly hit her in the face. She pushed through and climbed over the sofa, finding Helena lying on the floor, howling with laughter. Myka stood there in her itching powder-filled clothes, watching her wife act in the most juvenile fashion possible. She hadn’t been entirely herself during the weekend in Vegas, but there was no way she would have been interested in this version of Helena. The Helena she’d kissed and slept with was nothing like this; she had been cool and funny and smart. This woman was an idiot.

 

“Fine. I’ll just make sure to report this at our marriage counselling next week,” Myka said, looking down at Helena with disdain. “I’m sure the counsellor will agree that this behaviour is not really in keeping with our agreement to try to make our marriage work. I’m just going to call Leena; she can come over and take some video footage of the rash on my skin. And she knows a guy who works in a veterinary lab; I’m sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble for them to check my clothes and confirm what they’ve been treated with.”

 

Helena sat up, leaning back on her arms. Even in her fury, Myka couldn’t help but notice how toned Helena’s body was. She was beautiful, but beautiful wasn’t enough. The woman was crazy. Who did stuff like this?

 

“You wouldn’t.” Helena said it flatly, as if she truly believed Myka wouldn’t rat her out.

 

Myka quirked an eyebrow, her face blank. Her skin was on fire but she wasn’t about to let Helena know how much it was bothering her.

 

“I would. I want my money and I don’t want to be married to you. I didn’t know you were this childish, Helena, or I never would have even slept with you.”

 

Helena glared at her.

 

“Fine. I’ll clean your clothes,” she said, getting to her feet and into Myka’s space, glaring at her. “As long as you promise to play along and tell the counsellor that we’re both working at this bloody farce.”

 

“You’re the one who wanted this, remember?” Myka taunted, and Helena gritted her teeth.

 

“Go. And if one item of my clothing makes me feel a little uncomfortable after you’ve washed them, I’m calling Leena. And they better be ironed and the collars starched,” Myka said, not unreasonably. Her job required her to be professionally dressed.

 

“Fine,” Helena said sulkily, obviously dejected that her trick had backfired on her. Myka looked at her in disgust. She climbed back over the couch and into the small bathroom, throwing her clothes out the door and hitting Helena in the face. Two could play at being childish. She was about to pull her bathrobe from the door to wear after her shower when Helena called out to her.

 

“You’d better throw out your bathrobe too,” she said sullenly. Myka snorted.

 

“You better leave me something to wear,” she said, “otherwise I’m quite happy to walk around naked until my clothes are clean and dry.” The apartment was silent for a long moment, and then a hand came through the gap in the bathroom door holding a silky camisole top and shorts.

 

“Thank you,” Myka said quietly.

 

“You’re welcome,” said Helena, also quietly. Myka was sure, for a moment, that Helena had her head laid against the bathroom door. Which would indicate that she actually was upset about this whole thing. But, given her behaviour, Myka was pretty sure she was much too shallow to be feeling anything but avarice.

 

Myka heard Helena moving around, presumably taking what clothes Myka had managed to cram into their shared closet space, and then the door slamming. There was no space for a washing machine or a dryer in the apartment so they had to use a laundrette down the street. Myka was mollified, briefly, by the fact that Helena would be spending the evening washing and drying all of Myka’s clothes, but then she became aware of the itching and burning of her skin, and her bottom jaw jutted out again as she considered how ridiculous Helena had been so far. This was some boarding school-style bullshit. She hoped the woman had learned her lesson, but she thought probably not. She would need to be extra vigilant, now, and keep her eye out for more stupid tricks.

 

She climbed in the shower again, cleaning the powder off her skin and, when she got out, putting soothing lotion on her arms, legs, and trunk before dressing in the clothes Helena had provided and sitting down to continue watching Netflix. She sent a message to Leena, telling her what Helena had done, and Leena was appalled (if a little amused) by the antics of Myka’s new wife. She was having dinner with Claudia, it turned out, and Claudia, after a little cajoling from Leena, confessed that she already knew about Helena’s little stunt.

 

“Claudia won’t be getting involved in any of this again, I promise you,” Leena said, before signing off. Myka smiled. She was glad that Leena had found someone she was interested in. It had been a while since she’d had a girlfriend or boyfriend.

 

Much later that night, Helena returned to the apartment and, after a nod at Myka, took out an iron and an ironing board from the back of the closet. She stood there stoically for the next two hours, ironing everything Myka owned – including underwear – and starching collars and cuffs. Myka was actually impressed by her attention to detail. She even hung up Myka’s work clothing carefully in the closet, and packed the rest away in the one chest of drawers there was enough room for in the tiny space. When she’d finished, she flopped down on the other side of the sofa, and Myka took pity on her, re-heating the pasta dish she’d made earlier and making a cup of tea in the tiny kitchen space.

 

“Thank you, darling,” Helena said with a groan when Myka passed her the food and tea.

 

“You’re welcome,” Myka said, and Helena gave her a tiny smile in response.

 

That night was much better – Myka had purchased a mattress topper with memory foam that made the bed much more comfortable. Helena had been giving her the side-eye for the last hour or so before bed, possibly because Myka had stretched her long legs out, reclining the seat on the ancient sofa. She knew she had a nice pair of legs, and she remembered Helena appreciating them during the one night they’d spent together. They said goodnight in a fairly civil manner and, the following morning when Myka made her breakfast shake, Helena just groaned and put a pillow over her head.

 

The following days at work and at home were uneventful, except for the odd snarky comment from Helena here and there. She invited Abigail round one night, and watching them talk about her a few feet away from where she was sitting, getting progressively drunker, did not endear Myka to either woman. In the end she put her headphones in and listened to an extremely loud playlist of Pete’s.

 

Their first therapy session was due the following week. Myka didn’t know if she could even manage to make it that far. Living with Helena in this tiny space in such a horrible neighbourhood was wearing on her. Especially when Helena herself barely spoke. She just glared. On the Friday of their first week, Myka turned to her and glared as Helena sat, again, in silence, watching whatever dross was on television at that particular time.

 

“Did you just want to stay married for the money? Because you are making it pretty obvious that you don’t want to spend any time with me. I mean, if that’s it, that’s fine; I just want to know what kind of person you really are,” Myka said. Helena glared back.

 

“I didn’t want to be married at all, Myka. But you won a lot of money in that casino, and as you can see,” she said, gesturing around her at the less than palatial surroundings, “I could do with the money. It’s not that I didn’t like you, or find you interesting,” she continued, “but I’m just not really in a place in my life currently where I see marriage as an obvious next step.”

 

“Well, I was, Helena. I’ve gone, in a week, from being with the guy I was in love with to being forced to live with someone I just met, who I slept with once, and being completely ignored in what is effectively my only home. It’s not really fair of you, you know?” Myka said, irritated, and Helena flushed.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to be a more pleasant roommate, at least.”

 

“Thank you,” Myka said. “Now, first of all, do you really want to watch this crap?” she asked, gesturing to the television.

 

“Not really, but I don’t get many channels, so…” Helena shrugged.

 

“Well, I’ve got a Netflix account, which you can use if you want,” Myka said. “As long as you’re not being an asshole about this,” Myka said.

 

“Thank you,” Helena said hesitantly. Myka handed her tablet over, and Helena picked a show out for them to watch. The rest of the evening was relatively pleasant – they left the ‘and chill’ part out, but the Netflix part (and the company) was pretty okay. The next day was a Saturday and, when Myka got up, she considered going into the office for the day to avoid any awkwardness, but there was no need. Helena had plans with Abigail and Claudia, to have lunch and to shop for parts for some sort of gadget that Helena was building with Claudia. Myka was mercifully left alone, and she took advantage of the quiet to pamper herself, revelling in being alone with her thoughts for the first time in over a week. She couldn’t believe the position in which she’d found herself; it was like a bad romantic comedy. She and Helena were destined to be a one-night stand at best, not a marriage. If they had met anywhere but Las Vegas, this would never have come about. And if she hadn’t won all that money gambling, she would have been able to just annul the marriage or get divorced and forget all about it. She looked out of the apartment’s one window to see a grinning man less than a foot away in the adjacent apartment looking back in at her, his hands in his pants. She pulled the blind down with a shudder. This place was a nightmare.

 

She invited Leena round a little later that afternoon and they chatted for a while, catching up, and then Leena asked her how it was going with Helena.

 

“Mostly, it’s been pretty terrible. She pulled that stupid trick on me, and then once she realised I would tell the marriage counsellor, she was really pissed and wouldn’t speak to me. And then, last night, I talked to her and asked her why she’d fought to stay married to me. She admitted she did it for the money because she’s not in a place in her life right now to get married. I kind of have to agree,” Myka said, gesturing around at the minute space they were in. “But after that she was kind of fun. We watched some Orange is the New Black.”

 

“So, so lesbian,” Leena said, smiling.

 

“I know. But she hasn’t seen it, so we watched it, and she was being really funny, actually. And she even knew the whole joke, you know about the eggplant?” Myka said, with a soft smile.

 

“You like her,” Leena said, with a sly grin.

 

“I do not!” Myka said, aghast. “I am putting up with her until we can get this stupid marriage annulled or whatever, so I can go back to my old life.”

 

“You really weren’t that happy in your old life,” Leena said gently. “You were always so stressed about work, and Sam always made you feel so bad about yourself. Maybe this will be good for you. And… is she as good in bed as she looks?” Leena asked, grinning.

 

“Leena! You can’t ask me that!” Myka exclaimed, her face crimson.

 

“Oh, stop. You know you want to tell me,” Leena said again, smiling broadly.

 

“All right,” Myka said, giving in. “As far as I can remember, it was incredible. Like, mind-blowing, life-changing sex. I couldn’t see straight afterwards. And it wasn’t because I was drunk.”

 

Leena gave her an envious look.

 

“Anyway, what’s going on with you and the redhead?” Myka asked, and Leena blushed prettily.

 

“I like her,” she said, smiling and looking up through her lashes at Myka.

 

“I know you do,” Myka said. “So have you asked her to move in yet? Is there a U-Haul in your future?”

 

“Shut up, Myka. You can’t do lesbian jokes when you’re shacked up with the hottest woman this side of Manhattan,” Leena said, and Myka shrugged.

 

“It doesn’t count if it’s not a real relationship,” she said, a little sadly, and Leena smiled sympathetically and squeezed her hand for a while. They didn’t speak much more that afternoon.

 

Helena returned at around 9pm, drunk and being supported by Abigail and Claudia, both of whom were also clearly drunk, if not as drunk as Helena. Myka looked at them disgustedly as they half-dragged her ‘wife’ to the couch and dropped her into the seat next to Myka.

 

“She’s your problem now, Mrs Myka,” Abigail said drunkenly. “And you can tell your friend Pete that his face is perfect and I want to punch him in the balls again.”

 

“Sure,” Myka said, dryly. “I’ll be sure to pass that on.”

 

“You do that,” Abigail said, swaying slightly.

 

“Are you guys gonna be okay getting home?” Myka asked, looking at them both dubiously.

 

“Yeah, we do this all the time,” Claudia said, sounding surprisingly sober. Myka sighed.

 

“I guess I’ve got this to look forward to for a while, then,” she said.

 

“Screw you, Mrs Helena,” Abigail said. “HG could have had so much p….”

 

Claudia put her hand over Abigail’s mouth, pulling her towards the door.

 

“What was that, Abigail?” Myka asked innocently. She had just been struck by an idea.

 

“Nothing,” Claudia said, hastily. “You heard nothing. Goodnight.”

 

The door slammed behind the two drunk women. Myka looked at her drunk, unconscious wife thoughtfully. If Helena really had been surrounded by women when they were out, maybe that was the answer to her problem. Surely, if she could prove that Helena had cheated on her, they could end this farce and she could go back to her normal life; albeit a lot richer than she was before. She would put Helena to bed safely and then make the arrangements. Pete knew a lot of hot girls; he’d slept with half of Brooklyn and most of Queens. Throw in some alcohol and Helena would give in to temptation, right?

 

She grabbed Helena under her arms and stretched her body across the couch, covering her with a blanket and removing her shoes. She stood there for a moment, looking at this woman who had turned her life into a disaster, and felt a little bad for what she was intending to do. Doing anything dishonest really wasn’t in her nature. She liked to be upfront and try to be a good person, but being a good person wouldn’t help her out of this ridiculous situation. Besides, if Helena fell for this planned honey trap, Myka wouldn’t be at fault. It would be entirely Helena’s fault.

 

_Sunday evening_

The following evening Myka went out to Pete’s for a few hours. Before she left, however, she left her laptop on the window sill, open, with the webcam on and recording. Pete had called a few of his ex-girlfriends – somehow he managed to stay friends with these women, despite being a total slut – and they had agreed to knock on Helena’s door, pretending to be locked out of their apartment. With a bottle of champagne. Myka thought it was a bit obvious, but Pete thought it was a sure thing.

 

“I wouldn’t question it. You don’t question a free pizza, do you?” he asked, his arms spread wide. Myka was thinking that she didn’t really care for pizza, but he didn’t really want an answer. “There’s no way you turn down hot chicks and free drinks. Just you wait. She’ll be cheating on you by midnight, I guarantee it,” he said, triumphantly. Myka’s stomach twisted at the thought, for some reason. Because she didn’t want Helena sleeping with someone else. She figured it was some sort of transference, something to do with losing Sam, because she definitely didn’t have feelings for Helena. Yeah, she was an incredible lay, as Pete would put it, but sex wasn’t everything.

 

Myka left it an hour or so after the time when the girls were supposed to knock on the door of Helena’s place, and she and Pete made their way back to the tiny studio apartment. When they opened the door, they were hit with an overpowering smell of cheap perfume – the hallmark of most of Pete’s dates – and alcohol. Helena was nowhere to be seen, hidden in among the dozen or so women that Pete had sent over. They were under strict instructions not to let on that they knew Pete, but they were so wasted already that several of them threw themselves at Pete. Myka spotted Helena in the corner near the bathroom with a tall redhead who looked like a model. She was surprised at the strength of the jealousy she felt spiking through her abdomen. A few seconds later, however, Abigail appeared and grabbed Helena’s arm and pointed at Myka and Pete, speaking into Helena’s ear angrily. Helena smoothly disengaged herself from the redhead and disappeared into the sea of women.

 

Myka pushed her way through into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, and was hit on by four women before she had managed to drink a mouthful. Her wedding ring was awfully helpful, in the circumstances, but she eventually fought her way through the crowd and into the bathroom to hide from all of the drunk, hot women, leaving Pete to deal with a roomful of his exes and leaving Helena to deal with the ultimate temptation. When she sat down on the closed toilet lid, however, someone pulled the shower curtain back from inside the bath. It was Helena, sitting in the tub with a bottle of beer in her hand.

 

“So, you thought you’d catch me out with this lot, did you?” Helena asked sourly.

 

Myka shrugged. She wasn’t really sorry. It was up to Helena to resist people throwing themselves at her if she was really interested in this marriage.

 

“Having fun, are you?” Helena asked, indicating their surroundings. Myka snorted despite herself. Helena laughed and after a moment, Myka joined in. It really was ridiculous, what they were doing.

 

“It was a good idea, for what it’s worth,” Helena said after a few minutes of slightly hysterical laughter.

 

“Thanks,” Myka said, with a wry smile. “You can thank Abigail for that. She said to me, the other night when she dropped your drunk ass off, that I was stopping you from getting so much… well, I assume she was going to use an alternate word for cat,” Myka said delicately, and Helena snorted. “And I thought, if you were going to be tempted by that, I might be able to get out of this sooner than 6 months. No offence.”

 

“None taken,” Helena said, her tone dry. There was quiet for a few moments, until Helena spoke again.

 

“I am sorry, if Abigail or Claudia have been rude to you. This situation is certainly not your fault. I was the one who wanted to remain married,” Helena admitted, taking a sip of her beer. Myka looked at her in surprise.

 

“What?” Helena asked, shrugging. “I can admit when I’m wrong, you know.”

 

“No, I don’t, really,” Myka said. “I don’t actually know you that well at all, do I?”

 

Helena looked thoughtful at that.

 

“I suppose you’re right. What do you want to know?” Helena asked.

 

“Tell me about your family?” Myka suggested. Helena’s face scrunched up a little as if she was uncomfortable, but she began to speak, anyway.

 

“I have a brother, who is a single father. His daughter is called Christina; she’s a wonderful child and honestly I don’t think I could love her more if I tried. My brother, as you know, is a writer. I’ve been editing his books and occasionally giving him ideas since the beginning of his career. But he’s fired me about 8 times now,” Helena said, pursing her lips.

 

“Why?” Myka asked quietly. Helena reddened a little.

 

“I am not the most… reliable,” she said carefully.

 

Myka looked at her, head tilted.

 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But there’s no judgement here. I don’t exactly get on with my family, either,” Myka said.

 

“Why not?” Helena asked, and Myka looked at her for a moment before speaking.

 

“You nearly had me, then. I was going to start talking, and then I would forget all about the question I asked you. But no. I want to know, Helena Wells,” she said, with a smirk.

 

Helena shook her head.

 

“That wasn’t what I was doing. But to make you feel better, why don’t we do an answer for an answer. You answer my question and I’ll answer yours. I’ll even go first,” Helena said, and Myka tilted her head, regarding Helena carefully for a moment.

 

“Fine. So, you’re not the most reliable, you said. Why?”

 

“I… I have historically chosen to do those things that I am good at naturally, rather than trying to improve the skills that might need work. So instead of writing, or even editing Charles’ books and turning them in on time, I perhaps might have spent my time out drinking and sleeping with gorgeous women,” Helena said, with an eyebrow raise at that last one that might have indicated she was including Myka in that group.

 

“Okay,” Myka said. “I definitely want to know more about that. But it’s your turn, now.”

 

“Why don’t you get on with your family?” Helena asked immediately.

 

“I love them all, don’t get me wrong. But my dad wanted a son, and my mom is kind of… well, she wasn’t really much help against him. He’s such a force, and she just never stood up to that. He loves my sister Tracy, and he always made it really clear that she was his favourite, and nothing I could do was anywhere near good enough. And Tracy – oh my god, she _loved_ that she got away with everything. She never worked in the store – my dad has a bookstore – but I was expected to spend my weekends in there. It was just a difficult way to grow up, and I moved away and I think maybe I’ve held on to that. Probably longer than I should. I haven’t been home in almost a year,” Myka said.

 

There was a long pause where Helena regarded her silently before handing her a cold bottle of beer. Myka looked at her incredulously.  

 

“Have you got ice in there?” she asked.

 

“Always be prepared, darling,” Helena said with a grin. Myka snorted and took a long drink of the cold beer.

 

“So, an answer for an answer. I owe you one,” Helena said, and Myka chewed on her lip for a moment before asking.

 

“Your brother writes, and you edit. Why don’t you write? You’re smart enough – hell, you’re smarter than pretty much anyone I’ve ever met,” Myka said, her eyes on Helena’s.

 

“I… I tried my hand at writing when I was young. I’m not sure what age. But I wrote some short stories, and my teacher at school was very encouraging. And my mother was, too. She encouraged me to show them to my father, and he looked them over and after a while he took his glasses off and looked down at me and told me that it was good, very imaginative ideas. But my writing just wasn’t as good as Charlie’s. And I decided, from that day, that if I wasn’t going to be as good as Charlie, then I just wouldn’t do that thing anymore. I’d do something else where I was better than he was, and I’d make my Dad proud,” Helena said, with a shrug, and Myka was almost overcome by the desire to climb into the bathtub and hold her tight, protect her against her father, who, unthinkingly, had caused her to have such a complex about her own success, about trying anything in case she wasn’t good at it. No wonder she was such a hot mess. Myka had a vision of a little girl with black hair and dark eyes showing her dad her work, and her father shaking his head, and it made her want to cry.

 

“I’m sorry,” Myka said quietly, and Helena waved a hand dismissively.

 

“It’s in the past. It’s not like it affects me now,” she said, with an attempt at a laugh that sounded choked in her throat.

 

“So, your turn,” Myka said, and Helena smiled.

 

“Tell me about Sam. Where did you meet, how did you fall in love?” Helena asked, leaning forward a little with her elbows on the edge of the bath, her head resting on her hands.

 

“Well. It’s kind of a boring story, really. I left home to go to college – NYU – and we shared a class. He’s an accountant and I was taking some extra classes in finance. My major was British Literature,” she said, with a smile, and Helena smiled back. That simple smile made Myka’s heart clench and then soar, out of her control, for a long moment.

 

“We had class together, and I lent him my notes when he missed a few lectures, and he took me out for coffee, and one thing led to another. A few years later, I was working at the Stock Exchange and he was a fully qualified accountant and we were living in Midtown. It was pretty much all my parents wanted for me; a good guy who would support me,” Myka said, with a shrug.

 

“You told me about what he said to you, when it ended. But he’s totally wrong, you know. He couldn’t be more wrong. He doesn’t deserve someone like you, at all,” Helena said, handing Myka another beer.

  
“I never felt like I deserved him, you know? My folks weren’t really big on building my confidence, it was always ‘why can’t you be more like Tracy’ because she was head cheerleader and going out with the captain of the football team, and they never even congratulated me when I was valedictorian. So I guess I just felt like I was lucky to find Sam. And he never really made me feel like I deserved him, either,” Myka said, thoughtfully, taking a sip of the beer.

 

Helena looked at Myka seriously before speaking.

 

“I think the problem is him, personally. He’s a douchewad who wants you to be all of his fantasies at once; a whore in the bedroom, a perfect cook, mother, lover and whatever the hell else he believes he’s entitled to. He has no idea what he’s got in you. Jackass,” Helena said, her jaw clenching. Myka was touched by the show of real concern, real regard for her and her feelings. It made her stupid heart do that clenching, jumping thing again. She took a deep breath.

 

“So, what about you? Any significant others I should know about?”

 

“Not really,” Helena said with a shrug. “I haven’t made any particularly profound connections, other than Abigail and Claudia. My dalliances have tended to be short and not exactly meaningful.”

 

“Why is that?” Myka asked, and Helena shrugged.

 

“For reasons I have never cared to examine too closely,” she said, lightly. Myka nodded, acknowledging that Helena didn’t want to speak about that particular subject anymore.

 

“I can’t believe I still have his fucking engagement ring. I should have pawned it and bought a new apartment,” Myka said, slightly under her breath.

 

“It’s worth that much?” Helena said, her eyes wide.

 

“Well, enough for a down payment, at least. Not in Midtown, but maybe somewhere near Pete,” Myka said, and Helena looked at her thoughtfully before draining her beer and pulling out another.

 

An hour later they were cleaning up the apartment, collecting beer bottles and discarded plastic cups and remains of pizza – Myka somehow missed the pizza delivery, and by midnight they were both tucked up in their respective beds – or rather, sofa and bed, and Helena wished Myka a good night’s sleep. Myka smiled.

 

“Good night, Helena.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More farce and tomfoolery

_Brooklyn_

 

In an apartment in Brooklyn, a small woman named Abigail was lying in bed next to a slightly larger man named Pete, with whom she had just enjoyed an extended and incredible session of sex. It was the third such session since their friends, Myka and Helena, had inadvertently married at the weekend.

 

“Why do I keep doing this?” she moaned to herself.

 

“Because I’m amazing in bed?” Pete asked, as he drifted off to sleep.

 

“But I don’t even like you!” Abigail exclaimed, and Pete didn’t respond for a moment.

 

“But I’m amazing in bed.” He lifted his arm in invitation.

 

“Yeah,” Abigail said, her tone defeated. She turned over and put her head on Pete’s shoulder before falling asleep.

 

_Wednesday, 5pm, Myka’s office and marriage counselling_

Work was becoming a real stress. Myka hadn’t been home before midnight on either Monday or Tuesday, and the only time she’d seen Helena at all was when she made her morning shake and Helena moaned and put her pillow over her head, and when Myka crawled into their apartment in the dark and caught a glimpse of her sleeping wife on the sofa. Myka’s boss, Artie, was dangling a promotion over both her and Sally Stukowski, and they were having a contest to see who could stay in the office the longest. Given that Myka was on the floor of the stock exchange for most of the day and spending an additional 6 or 7 hours after that in the office, she was starting to consider moving in to her office. She was fairly sure she had never been this tired.

 

On Wednesday evening she had to leave early, and Artie asked her why, his eyebrows drawing together suspiciously.

 

“I… uh, have to go meet my wife,” she said, nervously. Not because of the gay thing – Artie was fine with that, and had apparently had an affair with one of the other male partners before settling down with his wife. But because she had to leave the office at all.

 

“I didn’t know you were married! What sort of person doesn’t even tell her boss she’s married?” he said, and he actually appeared upset. His eyebrows were moving at an alarming pace.

 

“Well, sir, things have been so crazy around here lately, I didn’t even get a chance to talk to you about it,” she said, and he smiled at her, suddenly.

 

“Congratulations, Bering. Is it still Bering?” he asked, without waiting for the answer to his question. “I want you to bring your wife to the company retreat, do you hear? I won’t take no for an answer. I want to meet the woman that managed to tame my Myka!”

 

“I’m married too, sir!” said Sally from the next desk, hopefully, and he shot her a dark look.

 

“I know. I fired your husband before you met him. Diamond. He was an unsavoury character,” Artie said, before wandering off muttering to himself.

 

Myka snickered, and Sally shot her a filthy look. It made Myka smile the whole way to the marriage counsellor’s office.

 

Helena was outside waiting for her. They were both ten minutes early, which Myka thought was a good sign. It meant that Helena was taking the counselling part seriously, at least.

 

The counsellor introduced herself as Dr Irene Frederic, and she looked at them over the rim of her cat’s-eye glasses sternly.

 

“I am not here to be your friend. I am here to assess whether you are taking this process, and therefore your marriage, seriously. If I do not believe that one or other of you is taking the matter seriously, I will report back to the judge and the matter of the winnings from the casino will be decided in favour of the other party. Do I make myself clear?” she asked, and Myka swallowed loudly. She nodded, and Helena nodded too, a look of horror on her face. It was going to be difficult to get anything past this counsellor.

 

“Tell me about yourselves, please,” Dr Frederic asked, and Helena indicated to Myka that she should go first.

 

“I work at the Stock Exchange, I’m 32, and I recently got dumped by my long-term boyfriend,” Myka said, and Dr Frederic nodded, encouraging her to continue.

 

“I met Helena just over a week ago, and as you know, we got married while we were drunk. I can’t say it was something I was expecting, and I think I’m still trying to process that,” Myka said, shrugging helplessly. Dr Frederic nodded.

 

“And you, Miss Wells?” she said, looking over her glasses once again.

 

“I am 34 years old. I don’t have a job just now, because my brother fired me. I used to edit his books,” she said, and Dr Frederic’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Why did your brother fire you?” she asked.

 

“He said that I was irresponsible and that I was making him look bad because I wasn’t turning in my edits on time. But I think it was because I went home with the model he was trying to chat up the night before,” Helena said, with a dismissive shrug.

 

“Is that really why you think he fired you?” Dr Frederic asked, and Helena’s jaw tightened.

 

“Does it really matter, doctor, or do you just enjoy humiliating people?” Helena asked, and Myka gave her a reproachful look.

 

“I most certainly do not, Miss Wells. But I believe a certain amount of honesty is required in this sort of situation, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

Helena gave her a sullen look, and Dr Frederic turned her attention to Myka.

 

“How do you feel your marriage is developing, Miss Bering?” she asked, and Myka shrugged.

 

“Honestly, I think we’re struggling a little, just trying to get to know one another. We’re virtually strangers, Dr Frederic,” she said, and the counsellor nodded.

 

“It is an unusual situation,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it your all,” she said, a slight note of chiding in her voice.

 

“I understand, Dr Frederic. I’m at a difficult point in my life, and I feel a little out of control, I have to say,” Myka said honestly, and was rewarded with an approving nod from the doctor.

 

“And you, Helena? May I call you Helena?” Dr Frederic asked, and Helena nodded. “How do you feel your relationship with Myka is developing?”

 

“I am getting to know her a little more,” Helena said. “She works hard. I admire that.”

 

“Because?”

 

“Because I never have, I suppose,” Helena said, surprising herself, it appeared.

 

“Never?”

 

“I… I don’t know,” Helena said, spreading her hands helplessly. Dr Frederic let her off for a moment and spoke to them both in generalities about how they could get to know one another better, and then let them go for the week, admonishing them to be on time and ready to be honest the next week.

 

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Myka said, as they stepped out of the office on to the sidewalk. Helena stared at her.

 

“Are you mad? She was prying into everything. She’s going to know we’re not really in this sincerely,” Helena said.

 

“Aren’t we?” Myka asked, and Helena fell quiet.

 

 

The following week was uneventful. Myka worked until midnight most nights, using the firm’s car service to get home because of the hour. Helena had offered to come and meet her at work, which was unexpectedly chivalrous of her. But Myka wasn’t happy about Helena being out on the subway at that hour alone, either.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you get home safe,” Helena had said, with a shrug, avoiding her eyes. Myka smiled to herself.

 

The following week in their couples’ therapy, Mrs Frederic had suggested, in a way that made it clear that it was not a suggestion, that they have a date night once a week. Out of the apartment, and they had to report back to her the following week about what they’d learned from each other. The responsibility for planning the date would shift from one of them to the other each week. That Friday it was Myka’s job to arrange the date. After a little thought, she called Pete and asked him to ask Abigail what Helena might enjoy.

 

“Why are you calling me?” Pete asked.

 

“God, Pete. Did you think I didn’t know?” Myka asked.

 

“Know what? What is there to know? I don’t even like her!” he said.

 

“I know,” Myka said. “That doesn’t mean she’s not there.”

 

“Fine,” Pete said, defeated, and a moment later, Abigail was on the line.

 

“What do you want, Mrs Wells?” Abigail asked acerbically.

 

“I’m taking Helena out on a date, tomorrow. What do you think she’d enjoy?” she asked, and Abigail was quiet for a moment.

 

“Are you serious about her?” Abigail asked, her voice losing its edge.

 

“I want to get to know her, if that’s what you’re asking,” Myka said.

 

“Okay. In that case, take down this number,” Abigail said, reeling off a telephone number quickly. Myka wrote it down dutifully. “That’s her brother Charles. Her niece, Christina, has been dying to go to the New York Hall of Science. If you take them both there and then out for ice cream afterwards, that would probably be the best thing you could ever do for her. I’ll call him first so he knows who you are.”

 

Myka thanked Abigail and hung up, wondering if the woman was pulling her leg. Was Helena’s idea of a fabulous date really a day out with her niece? She mentally shrugged, however, because even if Christina was a little monster who hated Science, Myka would probably have fun, and so would Helena, given that she had invented some really useful stuff for the apartment.

 

_Saturday, near the Hall of Science_

 

It turned out that Abigail had not been lying. When Myka met her wife at a coffee shop near the Hall of Science, Helena was stunned to find Christina there. Charles had dropped her off shortly before, after some ‘serious vetting’ of Myka and her friends. Abigail had vouched for her, and the fact that Pete was a police officer had gone a long way toward reassuring him that his daughter would be safe with Myka. Charles hadn’t known that Helena was married, having not even heard from her since he’d fired her.

 

“Christina, my darling,” Helena exclaimed, and embraced the child enthusiastically. “I’ve missed you so much!”

 

There were tears in her eyes, and she grasped the girl’s hand tightly, turning to mouth, “thank you,” to Myka. Myka smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

 

The museum was awesome; Christina especially enjoyed the spider web, clambering all over it like a monkey. Myka had a sudden vision of what her future with Helena could look like – a little girl that looked the image of Helena, black hair and dark eyes, with a lopsided smile like Myka’s. Helena reached out, as if echoing Myka’s thoughts, and took her hand.

 

They all ate far too much ice cream at a nearby ice cream parlour, taking pictures of each other’s ice cream moustaches, and Christina chattered on about school and the museum and her dad’s books, barely stopping for breath. Helena was so good with her that it made Myka’s heart melt a little. She thought that if she’d met this version of Helena before the itching-powder trickster, she would have liked her a hell of a lot more.

The following week was more crazy work for Myka, and more doing sweet fuck all for Helena, if the state of the apartment was any reflection. But Myka said nothing, and they met dutifully for their court-mandated therapy as usual on Wednesday.

 

“So, how did your date go, ladies?” Dr Frederic asked.

 

“It went really well,” Helena said with a smile. She reached over and took Myka’s hand with a smile that warmed her.

 

“Tell me about it,” Dr Frederic suggested, with a vulpine smile, settling back into her chair. Helena described the day out in glowing terms, turning often to smile at Myka, and Myka was beginning to wonder, with a sort of soaring feeling in her chest, if this might actually work, somehow, between them.

 

Dr Frederic, at the end of their session, commented on how she had found it encouraging that they had enjoyed their date so much, and she looked forward to speaking to them the following week to find out how Helena did in planning the next one.

 

They walked to the subway hand in hand, and only let go when they needed to find something to hold on to. Myka smiled shyly at Helena more than a few times that evening. They even made dinner and ate together, when normally Myka cooked for herself and left something for Helena to eat when she woke up.

 

Things were going really, really well, in fact. But then they reached the day of Helena’s date.

 

“Helena?” Myka said gently, while tugging on the sleeping woman’s arm, which was flung over her face. It was almost midday, and Helena had been out with Claudia and Abigail the night before, in what was obviously a weekly occurrence.

 

“Hmm?” Helena mumbled, opening one eye and blinking repeatedly.

 

“Helena, it’s supposed to be our date, today. It’s almost midday,” Myka said.

 

“Oh, for God’s sake. I didn’t get home til 4. Can’t you wait for a while?” Helena asked acerbically.

 

“Look, Helena. It’s up to you if you want to waste your time and money on boozing like a teenager. But we’re supposed to be taking this seriously, and it’s your turn to take me on a date. I’ll go out for an hour, but after that, Helena, I’m going to just report to Dr Frederic that you blew off our date,” Myka said, wearily. It shouldn’t have to be this hard, surely? She’d worked out where to take Helena after a few phone calls, and they’d had a really nice time. Why couldn’t Helena make the same effort?

 

Myka sent a quick text to Pete, who was always up for food, pretty much any hour of the day. He met her at a sandwich place that was roughly halfway between them, and she amused herself for a while watching the seriousness with which he chose his food, and the utter abandon with which he attacked it, once they sat down.

 

“So, how’s things with the missus?” he asked, eventually, when he was sufficiently full to begin taking breaths between mouthfuls.

 

“Pretty good, this week, I thought,” she said, with a frown.

 

“Why, what’s she been doing?” he asked, and he looked angry for a moment.

 

“Nothing too bad. It’s just – this therapy, that we have to do? The doc told us we have to go on a date each week, so last week you know I did the whole museum thing with her and her niece, and things this week were great. But then last night she went out with Abigail and Claudia and got wasted, and when I left she was trying to blow off the date, I think. I told her she had an hour to get ready and take me out, otherwise I’m going to have to tell Dr Frederic. I mean, I didn’t really want any of this, but I’m trying to make it work, I’m really trying this six months thing, and it’s like she doesn’t even give a damn,” Myka finished, morosely, looking down at her now-unappealing healthy sandwich with roasted vegetables and salad.

 

“Hey,” Pete said, lifting her chin with a finger. “If she doesn’t appreciate you, then you deserve someone better. And this drinking thing that she keeps doing – she needs to get a grip. She’s a grown woman. And I told Abigail the same thing when she knocked on my door at 4 this morning. She’s an adult, and it’s about time she got her shit together.”

 

Myka nodded and gave him the hint of a smile. They spent the rest of their lunch talking about the Cleveland Browns, or rather Myka spent the rest of their lunch listening to Pete talk about the Browns. She didn’t really follow sports, and baseball especially was really boring, so she just nodded and smiled, all the while wondering if Helena would even be out of bed when she got back to the apartment.

 

She took her leave from Pete a little while later, walking back to the apartment slowly. She didn’t really want to go home; if Helena was blowing her off for this date, then they were probably going to get the annulment or divorce or whatever the judge decided on, whether they wanted it or not. And while she had been initially reluctant, she wasn’t sure she was ready for this to be over. Whatever this was, between them.

 

She opened the door and breathed a silent sigh of relief when she found Helena standing by the window, her phone in her hand, carrying on a quiet, intense conversation. Myka let the door close a little more loudly than she would have, normally, so that Helena knew she was there, and Helena turned to nod at her before turning back to the window, continuing her conversation. Myka squeezed past her to use the bathroom, and when she came back out, Helena was waiting, leaning on the tiny kitchen counter.

 

“Are you ready, then?” she asked, her face still.

 

“Yes,” Myka said, searching Helena’s face. What was this all about? She looked indifferent, almost. Like she didn’t give a damn whether this date went well.

 

It turned out that was exactly true. First, Helena took them to a cheap and nasty sushi restaurant, asking for a seat next to the giant fishtank, which held several different species of squid and octopus, all of which Myka hated. Helena knew, moreover, that she hated those things. Myka managed to choke down a few mouthfuls of the less disgusting pieces Helena ordered for her, almost shrieking when they brought out a plate full of tentacles. Helena ate everything they were served with a smug grin on her face. And then there was the ‘entertainment’ portion of the date. Helena took her to a strip club – one which must have been the cheapest strip club on the planet. She even offered to buy a lapdance for Myka, and that was the icing on the cake, as far as Myka was concerned. She had definite opinions on a world that allowed those sorts of places to exist. Not that she was prudish – quite the opposite – but she didn’t think it was fair that women were forced to take on jobs like this to get themselves through college or to feed their kids. And the women in this club definitely didn’t look happy to be there.

 

Myka ended up telling Helena that she was going home, and Helena followed her, a sardonic smile on her face. Myka wanted to slap her, to do anything to take that infuriating look off her face, but she held her temper and ignored the way it made her feel. At least until Helena took off her coat, hanging it on the door, and asked, “How was your date, my darling wife?” with that same fucking smile on her face. 

 

“How was it?” Myka repeated, quietly, dangerously. Helena’s smile faded.

 

“It was possibly the worst few hours I have spent. You deliberately chose things you knew I would hate, you frightened me by putting one of my worst – and admittedly ridiculous – fears right in front of me, and then you took me to a strip club. I honestly don’t know what I did, Helena, to make you hate me this much, but if it’s really what you want, we can go to the judge and I’ll tell him to give you the money right now. Because I don’t deserve to be treated like this. If the money is all you wanted, then congratulations. It’s yours.” Myka said, with tears in her eyes. For a moment it looked like Helena was going to say something, but she didn’t, so Myka turned on her heel and left the apartment. She headed to Leena’s and decided, after having a good cry in Leena’s arms, to stay there until Helena either apologised or until they decided to split.

 

The following evening, she had heard nothing from Helena, and had endured a visit from Claudia, who had clearly not expected her to be at Leena’s. Claudia had given her a filthy look, which she then tempered when Leena gave her a look. Leena asked if Claudia had seen Helena since yesterday. Claudia nodded, while glaring at Myka.

 

“I saw her, yeah. We went out clubbing, to make up for whatever crap you said to her yesterday, Mrs Wells,” Claudia said nastily. Myka gritted her teeth, tears welling up in her eyes straightaway. Claudia looked alarmed, and left without protest when Leena said it might be better for her to go home. Leena came and sat by Myka, putting her arm around her, and Myka cried in her arms for the second time in 24 hours, wondering why she couldn’t find someone as caring as Leena to fall in love with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the disastrous date, Myka’s revenge, and a do-over.

* * *

The following day, Myka thought for a long time before coming up with a plan to get back at Helena. Helena had clearly been trying to get her to give up on the marriage by giving her the world’s worst date. Or at least that was what Myka assumed; she couldn’t think of another reason why Helena would behave the way she had. Helena’s behaviour had hit her hard. She had thought that things were beginning to work between them after the date Myka had planned. Apparently she’d been wrong. She focused her mind, therefore, on doing something that might make Helena think twice before crossing her again. When they had their heart-to-heart in the bathroom the night of her attempt to catch Helena with another woman, Helena had told her that her father’s approval mattered to her far more than anything else in the world. So Myka invited the whole family to their tiny apartment for dinner that night. She begged off work early, confident that she was ahead in her contest with Sally Stukowski, and bought the ingredients for dinner on her way home. When she entered the apartment, Helena was on the sofa, reading for a change, rather than asleep.

 

“Myka? I… I’m really glad you’re home,” Helena said, and Myka smiled brightly at her.

 

“Sure, honey. Let bygones be bygones, right? I’m just gonna make some food,” Myka said, shucking her jacket and bags and starting the food prep right away. She could feel Helena watching her carefully from the corner of her eye, but Myka said nothing, getting the casserole in the oven quickly, and she smiled at Helena as she walked by to go into the bathroom, getting into the shower. After she’d showered, she dressed quickly, and started chopping the vegetables for the salad, putting some bread into the oven to warm, too.

 

“Looks like you’re getting ready to feed the five thousand,” Helena remarked, coming to stand next to her as she chopped industrially.

 

“Mm,” Myka agreed, popping a piece of pepper into her mouth and smiling widely. The oven dinged, and as if the sound had summoned her guests, the doorbell rang.

 

“Can you get that, Helena?” she asked, with a small frown, and Helena nodded.

 

“Of course, Myka,” she said, obviously glad to be able to be helpful, given Myka’s strange mood. When she saw who was at the door, her eyes widened a tiny amount in shock before she plastered a smile on her face.

 

“Welcome!” she said, hustling her family into the tiny apartment and taking their coats. There were a few moments of the usual pandemonium that occurs when a lot of people try to fit into a small space and new people are introduced to one another. Charles Wells Senior, Helena’s father, was a tall, cadaverous-looking man with a shock of white hair and an incredibly deep voice, and her mother was dark-haired and dark-eyed and beautiful like Helena, but opposite, it appeared, in temperament, because she barely said a thing other than to say hello to Myka.

 

Everyone was seated on the small couch and on a few folding chairs that Helena pulled from the tiny storage closet within ten minutes, at which point Myka served up their dinner, a delicious Chicken and Chorizo recipe she’d learned by accident from an Armenian chef named Oz. It was delicious and creamy and even Myka was surprised at how well it turned out.

 

“So, Myka,” Charles Senior began, his plate looking tiny in his massive hands, “we were very surprised to find out that our darling Helena had married, and without telling us. Now that we see you, of course, I understand. I certainly wouldn’t have let you out of my sight, if I’d met you twenty years ago.”

 

Charles Junior coughed, his moustache fluttering, and muttered “Forty,” under his breath. Myka smiled, and both Christina and Helena’s mother Catherine laughed. Helena did not. She was watching Myka cautiously as if she was waiting for a bomb to drop.

 

“Well, it was pretty sudden,” Myka began, and Helena held a hand out, smiling.

 

“Do let me tell the story, love, won’t you?” Helena asked, grabbing her hand for a moment.

 

“Of course,” Myka said, with a soft smile, and Helena spun a tale of them meeting in Vegas and falling in love and marrying because they couldn’t bear to be apart. Charles Junior didn’t believe a word of it, but Christina and the senior Wellses were enraptured. Myka got up after the tale had finished, collecting plates and cutlery, and went to the tiny kitchen to make coffee and clean up. Helena joined her after a moment, ostensibly to wash the dishes, but she waited until her father and Charles were in deep conversation before turning to Myka.

 

“What will it cost me for you to pretend that this is a real marriage?” Helena asked, in an almost inaudible voice. She was staring at her hands, not meeting Myka’s eyes, knowing that she’d been bested, at least on this occasion. Myka felt bad for a moment, before she remembered their date and that supercilious smile that Helena had worn that whole day.

 

“You need to stop drinking. Get off the couch, do something useful with your days. I want a do-over of our date, this time with some thought put into it, and I want a heartfelt apology. Just… just get your shit together, Helena. You’re a fucking adult. It’s time you started acting like one.”

 

“Done,” Helena said, looking up at her for a second. “Anything else?”

 

“No. Just… don’t make me do this again,” Myka said. Helena nodded.

 

The rest of the night was remarkably pleasant. Helena’s parents, although older and staid-looking, were pleasant and quite happy to eat their food on their laps and lie on the floor to play Scrabble with Christina later in the evening, and Charles Junior was an astute and quite hilarious man, it turned out.

 

“So, Helena,” he said a little later, when his parents and Christina were absorbed in their scrabble game, “she caught you out with this little get-together, didn’t she?”

 

Helena stared at him.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, come off it, sister dearest. You did something to upset Myka, and she did this to get back at you. And now you owe her for pretending to be the happiest little wifey in all of New York state,” he said, and Myka laughed. Helena glared at her.

 

“How did you even…” Helena began, before sighing.

 

“I told him last week, Helena, before I took you and Christina out. He knows the deal,” Myka said, allowing herself to smile a little smugly for a moment.

 

“You won’t…”

 

“Tell mum and dad? Of course not, sister dear. I’ll leave that to you, if and when it needs to happen,” he said, before getting up swiftly and telling Christina to get ready to go.

 

“What did he mean by that?” Helena asked, and Myka shrugged. She no longer believed this had any chance of working, not after Helena’s performance on Saturday. But maybe Charles could see something she couldn’t.

 

Later that night, after Charles and Catherine left them with smiles and promises to come and see them soon, Helena turned to Myka and saluted.

 

“Well played, Myka. Well played. Using my own weaknesses against me. I didn’t see that coming.” Her face was expressionless.

 

“I wish I hadn’t had to,” was all Myka said in response, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. They cleared up the remains of the dishes and went to bed in silence. Myka, however, couldn’t sleep. Both through guilt, because she really hadn’t wanted to use Helena’s family against her, and through anger and pain at how Helena had treated her on Saturday.

 

“I am sorry, you know,” Helena said, out of the blue, in the darkness. Myka jumped a little. She’d thought Helena was asleep.

 

“What for?” Myka asked sourly. “Not planning the date in the first place, or planning the world’s worst date to try to get me to back out of this so you could have the money?”

 

“I… I was worried. I didn’t mean to…” Helena began, before sighing. Myka could hear her shifting around on the couch. “I didn’t have enough money to take you anywhere nice. So I went out and got rat-arsed the night before with what little money I did have. I think I was hoping that you’d let me out of it if I was hungover. But you didn’t, and I react poorly when I don’t know what to do. Hence – the world’s worst date.” She sighed again, heavily, and Myka took a deep breath.

 

“So you didn’t do this to try to get me to give up on this marriage?” Myka asked, confused.

 

“Well. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t enter into it at all. I do want that money; you know that. But… I shouldn’t have done it. And I promise, I won’t do anything like this again.” Helena said.

 

Myka shook her head. This was… not what she had expected. She’d thought that Helena’s real motivation here was to get her to give up the money. But clearly it was about a lot more than that.

 

“Look, Helena. We have a joint bank account, now. I know you don’t earn anything, so what’s left of what I earn once I’ve paid the bills, I leave in there. It’s for you, too. I agreed to give this thing a go for six months. So you’re either in it, with me, or you’re not.”

 

“Oh. Okay,” Helena said, and Myka sighed, in relief this time.

 

“Good. I expect a do-over, tomorrow night, so I can report back to Dr Frederic honestly,” Myka said, and Helena agreed. It was with a much lighter heart that Myka went to sleep that night.

 

The following evening when she returned from work, she was met by a version of Helena similar to the one she’d met in Vegas. Dressed up – this time in a suit, with her hair up in a twist that had Myka’s fingers itching to pull it down, to feel the strands between her fingers.

 

“Hey,” she said, and Helena smiled at her. It appeared to be a real, genuine smile.

 

“Good evening,” she said, standing and sweeping a bow. Myka almost giggled. “You just have time to shower and change before we have to go.” So Myka did just that, finding a little black dress that she’d worn before to great effect on dates with Sam. She shook aside the thought of her ex and wondered if Helena had – as her appearance suggested – actually put some effort into this date.

 

It turned out that she had. She had managed, through what must have been some sort of miracle, to get tickets to the last week of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s run on Hamilton. They went straight there from the apartment by cab, and Myka was stunned when they arrived at the theatre. She bit back a remark about the cost of the tickets – sure, she earned a lot, in her job, but most of it was earmarked for paying off her student loans, and she was pretty sure these tickets had to be extortionate. However, she just let it pass – soon enough, she was going to have a lot more money, if things worked out, so she could sort it out then. The show was tremendous. Myka had taken to listening to the soundtrack on her morning runs, and seeing it live was overwhelming. She was the first person out of her seat to start the standing ovation at the end, with tears in her eyes, Helena only a beat behind her.

 

“Was that a bit more to your liking?” Helena asked, almost shyly, as they were leaving the theatre. Myka nodded, speechless. It had been the experience of a lifetime, and the night wasn’t over yet.

 

Helena hailed another cab miraculously quickly, getting them to a small, quiet restaurant on a back street Myka didn’t recognise. It was Thai food, which was Myka’s favourite, and after one mouthful of the Tom Yum soup, she looked at Helena in astonishment. It was the most complex, most delicious soup she’d ever tried in her life. Helena smiled at her, obviously pleased that she was enjoying the food.

 

“Wait until you taste the main course. This place is to die for,” Helena said, smiling happily. The rest of the meal was, as promised, delicious, and Myka was full to bursting by the time Helena suggested they go for a drink. They went to the Rockbar on Christopher Street, a bar Myka had never been to before. They were a little dressed up for the venue but it was quiet, rock music playing over the speakers, as Helena ordered them both some wine. They sat, talking quietly about the amazing food and about Hamilton and how incredible it had been.

 

“Has this date been a little better than the last?” Helena asked, and Myka nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Tonight – it’s been amazing,” she said, smiling broadly at Helena. “But you know, you didn’t have to go so big. Just a quiet dinner anywhere that wasn’t a tentacle horror-show would have been fine.”

 

Helena winced, but then smiled, a little nervously.

 

“I thought if I didn’t go big, as you put it, I might lose you for good,” Helena said, taking her hand gently. Myka looked at her in confusion. She had thought that this date was just to secure her good feeling, to win back what they’d lost after Saturday. But did Helena mean something more? She looked at Helena uncertainly for a moment before taking a sip of her wine. After a moment of quiet, a song started up that Myka knew, and a few people got up to dance. Helena took one look at the dancers and pulled Myka to her feet, pulling her to the dancefloor and then pulling Myka flush against her own body, her arms around Myka’s waist. She started moving to the beat and Myka was helpless to do anything but join in, her arms around Helena’s neck. They danced together wordlessly for a few more songs before Myka yawned and Helena looked at her in concern.

 

“I’d better get you home, darling,” she said. Myka looked at her again in confusion. Helena was calling her darling, in that tone she had used during their first night together, and it was messing with Myka’s head. She didn’t want to get too invested, because Helena was volatile and difficult and… their foreheads were pressed together and all Myka wanted to do was kiss Helena. She could feel herself shaking, and she took a step away, nodding.

 

“Yeah, we should go home,” Myka repeated, not looking at Helena, and they left the bar quickly, hailing a cab quickly as they walked by the Hudson. It was a beautiful night, and had circumstances been different, this definitely would have been the portion of the date where they kissed under the moonlight. But circumstances weren’t different, so they went home silently, and instead of exchanging kisses, they exchanged quiet wishes for good sleep before turning out the light. It had been a wonderful night, but Myka couldn’t help but let a few tears leak into her pillow silently before she fell asleep.

 

_The same night, Pete’s apartment in Brooklyn_

“That was amazing,” Abigail said, and Pete smiled at her, pushing her hair back from her face so he could see her eyes. Her eyes were his favourite thing about Abigail. She pretended she didn’t care about anything, like she didn’t care about him and that this was just sex. But when he looked into her eyes he could tell exactly how she felt.

 

“Have you heard anything from Myka?” she asked, a few minutes later when she’d caught her breath.

 

“Yeah,” he said, sadly.

 

“That was some bullshit she pulled with Helena the other day, am I right?” Abigail said, and Pete frowned.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean how Helena did her best to give her a good date even though she has no money, and Myka told her that it wasn’t good enough and she needed to do better. Helena was heartbroken,” Abigail said.

 

“Well. She might have been heartbroken, but I don’t know why. That’s not what happened,” Pete said.

 

Abigail’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Are you saying Helena lied?”

 

“I’m just saying that it’s not what happened. I saw Myka that morning, before the date. She was really looking forward to it, after their first date went so well. And then Helena took her to this skeevy place that served her tentacles. Myka is, like, totally shit-scared of tentacles. So Helena asked for a seat next to the tank where the damn things were kept. And then she took her to a strip club. Not only that, but a really cheap strip club, somewhere I wouldn’t even go if I was desperate. I don’t know what Helena thought she was playing at, but I believe Myka. She was crying when I talked to her, and Myka doesn’t cry easily. She’s also never lied to me or to anyone, so far as I’m aware, in the whole time I’ve known her. Can you say the same for Helena?” he asked, his tone reasonable, and Abigail frowned.

 

“She really… she said Helena did all those things? But why? Was she trying to get Myka to drop out of this, for the money?” Abigail said, after a moment’s thought.

 

“I don’t know,” Pete said. “But whatever the reason, it was a pretty shitty thing she did. Myka doesn’t deserve that shit, especially not after the way Sam treated her. I mean, the guy was a tool, and all she ever did was care for him.”

 

Abigail was silent for a moment.

 

“You know. We should go by his place one day and knock on the door, and when he answers, I’ll give him my best junk-punch. And when he asks why, we’ll say… “ _you know why”_ …”

 

Pete snorted.

 

“You are so on, missy. But only if your friend Claudia films it, too. So Myka can see.”

 

They high fived and then they were kissing again, lost in each other. But Abigail didn’t forget that Helena had lied to her friends. There was no way she was letting that one go. 

 

_Dr Frederic’s office, the next evening_

It wasn’t difficult for Myka to sound enthusiastic about their date the following evening when they met Dr Frederic. It was difficult not to sound _too_ enthusiastic, in fact. Because she had loved it so much, and Helena had been thoughtful and funny and sexy and sweet, picking out activities and food that she knew Myka would love, even down to the seemingly spontaneous dancing at the end of the night. Dr Frederic was duly impressed and congratulated Helena for planning something meaningful and memorable.  They talked a little about Helena’s family coming by, how pleased they’d been to meet Myka, and nothing was mentioned about the fact that it was, in essence, a trick to get Helena to stop being an ass. After the session, which Dr Frederic declared satisfactory, they walked away arm in arm, heading to the subway.

 

“Did you really enjoy last night as much as you said?” Helena asked, quietly. Myka nodded.

 

“Good,” was all Helena said, with a smile on her face that she tried to hide. Myka wondered what Helena was thinking, but mostly she just wondered how she could stop the warmth blooming in her chest every time she thought about the woman next to her.

 

When she arrived home at the apartment, she was stunned to find a lasagne in the oven, a spotless apartment and a small desk in the corner that appeared to be in used half for some sort of tinkering and half for writing.

 

“You’ve had a busy day,” she said, indicating the desk.

 

“Sorry,” Helena said, “I meant to clear that up before you got home but time got away from me.” She shrugged apologetically and went to tidy the desk, which folded up ingeniously so it barely took up any space at all. The projects – whatever they were – went in a drawer and Helena put the television on to a show she knew Myka liked, before pouring her a glass of wine and urging her to sit and relax. Myka nodded, slightly stunned. It was… it was like being home, really home, with someone who cared about her. She took off her jacket and put her bag away, sitting with her feet tucked underneath her, enjoying the delicious wine. The stress melted away and she sighed, loudly. A moment later there were hands at the back of her neck, rubbing, massaging away the remains of the tension. She tried not to tense up but her mind and heart were not in accord. Her heart wanted her to lean back into those hands; her mind wanted her to tense up and not fall in to the trap of believing that Helena had anything but bad intentions.

 

“Is this okay?” Helena asked, stilling her hands for a moment.

 

“Uh… yeah,” Myka said, flushing. “Thank you.”

 

The massaging continued, and Myka was practically ready to pass out from a mixture of relaxation and the desire to pull Helena down onto the couch and take her right there. Thankfully, the oven timer dinged and Helena stopped, apologising that it was time for the bread to go into the oven. Myka nodded, but inside she was screaming. For more of Helena’s touch, or for Myka to run away – she wasn’t sure.

 

The food was unexpectedly delicious. Helena hadn’t exhibited any aptitude for or interest in cooking before, but then Myka didn’t really know her that well. Helena, who had ignored her during most of the meals they’d shared in their apartment, made a point of chatting to her about her day. It was the most relaxing evening Myka had had for a long time, and she found herself drowsing after dinner, her wine glass tilting in her hands. As she fell asleep, she was dimly aware of her glass being rescued and a blanket being placed around her shoulders. What she didn’t see was that Helena sat next to her, watching her sleep for at least another ten minutes, with an almost unbearable look of tenderness on her face, before turning back to the television. She roused Myka a while later to change into her pyjamas before tumbling into bed; a bed that had had the mattress replaced and all of the linen cleaned and dried freshly, which Myka noticed with astonishment and gratitude before falling asleep once again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another dirty trick - this time accidental.

* * *

Things were fairly blissful, as it stood, and Myka was starting to think that things might work out as she walked to work from the subway the following morning, sipping her shake as she went. It wasn’t until their team meeting just before midday that she realised that something wasn’t quite… right.

 

“We have work to do, people. I need to know that you’re at your best, ready to work hard for the next quarter. The economy has taken a beating since Britain’s insane decision to leave the EU, so we have to work even harder to keep up…”

 

The world was buzzing, and Myka was so full of excitement that she just couldn’t contain it anymore.

 

“Yeah!” Myka shouted, interrupting Artie. To her astonishment, she was almost dancing in her chair, her fist pumping. “Let’s do this! Let’s buy shit! Let’s _buy_ shit!!! Woo!”

 

Artie peered at her over the rim of his glasses in astonishment, and Sally Stukowski, opposite her, sniggered. Myka smiled uncertainly, still moving around as if she had ants in her pants, and then Artie stood up. She thought, for a long moment, that she was going to get fired. But then…

 

“Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I’m talking about. That’s the kind of enthusiasm we’ve been missing. This young woman is a perfect example of the future of this company. We need that kind of excitement in the ranks!” he said, pointing at Myka and smiling broadly.

 

Opposite Myka, Sally Stukowski attempted a weak fist pump and a ‘yay’ that had Myka stifling a snort of derision. The team around her erupted into the kind of cringe-worthy forced enthusiasm that only a room full of mostly-white executives (or churchgoers) can produce. The rest of the meeting passed uneventfully, and Myka was left wondering what the hell had got into her. Until she was on the floor of the stock exchange a little later, and she noticed that she was acting as if she was in a nightclub, as she occasionally had been during college. When she’d been _high_. That’s when she realised. Her shake, this morning, had tasted a little different, but she’d been so happy about the way Helena had been the night before that she hadn’t thought about it at all.

 

“I’m gonna kill her!” she raged, while emptying a bottle of cold water over her own head, much to the astonishment of her co-workers. “I’m gonna kill her, and then I’m gonna resurrect her so I can kill her again!”

 

When she arrived home, Helena was at her desk in the corner, typing away on a laptop, apparently in her own world. Myka wanted to scream. Not only had she had to come home much earlier than she’d planned because when whatever it was that Helena had put in her shake had made her sweat hideously, followed by uncontrollable shaking, but she’d heard Sally call her husband, Marcus, to tell him she was planning to stay most of the night to work. Which potentially Sally the frontrunner for the promotion, given that Myka had come home early most nights this week.

 

“Hey, sweetie,” Myka began, in a saccharine-sweet tone of voice. “How was your day?” she asked, hanging her coat on the back of the door and putting her bag, carefully, on the kitchen counter.

 

“Oh, hi, darling!” Helena said, after starting a little. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.” She turned to favour Myka with what appeared to be a genuine smile. It probably was; Myka wouldn’t put it past the woman. She wouldn’t put anything past her. Not now.

 

“I wasn’t planning on coming back so early. Do you know why I did?” Myka asked, with a smile and raised eyebrow.

 

“No,” Helena said, frowning a little. “Should I? Have I forgotten something I was meant to do?” She actually looked anxious, like she _cared_.

 

“I think you’ve done exactly what you meant to do, Helena,” Myka said, gritting her teeth. “You drugged me with something, humiliated me. I could have been fired. And all because – what, you wanted to get back at me for something? What the hell did I do to you, Helena?” she asked, almost in tears, because she had thought – she had really, really thought – after last night, and their date, that there was something here, something between them, something special.

 

The blood drained from Helena’s face.

 

“Myka, I…” she pushed her hair back from her face, letting out a huff of a breath. “Shit!” she said, vehemently. “I didn’t do this. Or at least, I didn’t mean for this to happen. When we were fighting, right at the beginning – Claudia put something into one of your protein mixes. Pro-plus, or whatever they’re called over here. Caffeine tablets. I was drunk, and I thought it was funny, because I was being an ass to you, and then I honestly just forgot all about it. She put it in the middle of the box somewhere, so we didn’t even know which packet it was in. It was the first week or so. I had forgotten all about it, I swear to you. I wouldn’t – I had no desire to play any more tricks, to make this any harder for you. I was trying, trying to do something useful, like you asked. And I was trying to be nicer to you, because I know how hard you work. And after our dates and everything, Myka – I just wouldn’t have. I swear. I’m so, so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

 

Her apologies and explanations came out almost all in one breath, in a rush, and to Myka’s astonishment, there were tears in her eyes by the end of her speech. There were tears in Myka’s eyes, too, and after a moment, Helena crossed the room to her and pulled Myka into her arms.

 

“I’m so, so sorry,” she said, rubbing Myka’s back gently but firmly, holding her tightly. Myka wanted to push her away for a moment, but then she just started crying, softly at first, and then a sob burst out, and another. This was just the icing on the cake, after the week she’d had, and she lost it a little. Helena held her even tighter after that, rubbing her back, murmuring soft words of comfort in her ear, and eventually she led Myka gently to the couch, pulling Myka to her and running her fingers through her curls, her other hand tracing patterns on Myka’s abdomen.

 

“I’m so sorry, Myka. If I had remembered – I would have thrown it all out and replaced it, I promise you. Claudia can be rather mean-spirited, especially when she’s been drinking, as, apparently, can I. I would have thrown them all out and I am so sorry that I didn’t remember. Especially after the last few days. I… I’ve really enjoyed these last few evenings with you. I wouldn’t have wanted – I don’t want – to make your life any more difficult than it is already, I promise. Please, please forgive me,” she murmured, into Myka’s hair. Myka’s sobs were lessening, now, and she was relaxing into Helena’s hold. She wasn’t sure why, but she believed Helena. She seemed genuinely distraught, and she was holding Myka so very carefully, as if she was something precious. After a time, Myka was able to grab a tissue from her pocket and wipe away the tears and snot to present her clean (if a little red) face to Helena.

 

“I was so humiliated, Helena,” she said, in a whisper, and Helena’s eyes filled, again.

 

“I didn’t want that, Myka. I wish it hadn’t happened. I wanted to try to make life easier for you, to try and give this a real go – I bought ingredients for dinner tonight, and I was going to make it in a little while after I’d finished writing, and I was planning to rub your neck again. I want… I wanted to make your life a little easier; a little more pleasant. Please, let me make it up to you.”

 

Myka nodded, wondering why she was so willing to take Helena’s word that this wasn’t on purpose. She mentally shrugged, however, when the effort of trying to work out her own feelings became too much, and decided to think about it later.

 

“Why don’t you go and shower, and I’ll sort out some food,” Helena said gently, giving Myka a gentle squeeze and kissing her temple. Myka unthinkingly followed her directions, taking a shower turned up to the hottest the ailing plumbing could manage. When she came out in her favourite yoga pants and a tank top, Helena was laying out Thai food on the small kitchen counter, ready to dish onto plates, along with some of Myka’s favourite beer.

 

“Thank you,” Myka said wearily, gesturing at the food and drink. Helena just nodded, looking at her uncertainly and intently, as if she wanted to make sure that Myka wasn’t going to fly off the handle. They ate in silence while something inane played on the television. Myka had thought that she wouldn’t be able to eat but it appeared that she had used up an awful lot of energy during the day, and she ate more than she thought was possible. It reminded her, oddly, of an episode of the Big Bang Theory when Leonard dreamt that Sheldon ate too much Pad Thai and split into two Sheldons. It made her snicker to herself, and although Helena looked at her curiously, she didn’t explain. She didn’t really feel that she owed Helena any explanations today.

 

“I was wondering,” Helena asked hesitantly, when they finished eating, “if you would be interested in me giving you a massage. It seemed like you quite enjoyed it last night when I rubbed your neck, and if any workday is going to give you a backache, this would be it. It’s okay if you don’t; I quite understand. I’d be surprised if you ever trusted me to touch you again,” she continued nervously, beginning to babble. Myka cut her off, holding up a hand.

 

“You know what? Why not. It might help relax me, after the day I’ve had. And god knows you owe me. And by the way, you can tell Claudia that I might actually strangle her the next time I see her,” Myka said, through gritted teeth.

 

“Not if I do it first,” Helena said, almost savagely. “I did tell her not to do it, and although I realise I didn’t make much of an effort to fix it, it was just because I was so pissed that night. I’m… I will do whatever I can to make it up to you, I promise.”

 

“Sure, Helena. But actions speak louder than words, so let’s get this massage going, okay?” Myka said, and Helena nodded.

 

“Shall we pull your bed down? I’d say it’s a bit more comfortable than the couch, now,” Helena said, and Myka nodded. She flopped forward onto the bed when it was in position, pulling off her tank top as she lay face-down on the bed.

 

Helena began to massage her back, producing oil from somewhere, and it wasn’t long before Myka felt like her bones were melting into a puddle. She had noticed, despite her inebriation on their wedding night, that Helena was rather… focused, when it came to learning a body’s idiosyncrasies. She employed that focus when massaging Myka, finishing with a head massage that almost made Myka pass out. She was caught between extremely relaxed and extremely turned on, and when Helena said she was done, she almost groaned with disappointment. She wasn’t willing, however, to try starting anything with Helena tonight, not after her trust had been so recently abused. So she thanked Helena quietly and, after a quick trip to the bathroom, got into bed. She read for a little while, and then turned out the light. Helena was back at her desk, typing quietly, and Myka let the quiet tapping lull her to sleep.

 

The following morning when she woke, it was bright and Myka could smell something delicious – coffee, and was that bacon, perhaps? She had been planning to go into work, despite it being Saturday, but it didn’t feel like 6am, the time she’d set her alarm for. She sat up, confused, and saw Helena, apparently hard at work cooking at the stove with her back to Myka.

 

“Helena? What’s going on? I was supposed to go into work – I had a stack of reports to get through,” Myka began, and Helena turned to her, her expression a mixture of concerned and tentative.

 

“I called in to your office, and told your boss – Artie, is it? – that you weren’t feeling great this morning, and that I’d asked you to stay home because I think you’re in danger of burning out. He sounded concerned, and said that you should take as much time as you need. He seems to really like you, Myka,” Helena finished, turning to flip something over in the pan before turning back to face Myka.

 

“You talked to my boss? Why would you… what did he say? Oh my god, he’s going to fire me. He’s going to fire me, and then I’m going to have to murder Claudia Donovan, I swear…” Myka muttered that last through gritted teeth.

 

“It’s fine, Myka, really. He sounded genuinely concerned, and very fond of you. We chatted for a while, and he invited me to this company retreat you’ve got coming up. Said he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Helena said, with a shrug and a smile. Myka immediately began to panic. Helena could screw this all up for her; all of her hard work over the last few years, all in the aim of moving up, to reaching financial security. Helena caught her expression and, after flipping something else in the pan, came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

 

“Myka,” she began, reaching out to take Myka’s hands in hers, “I think it’s fairly safe to say that I owe you – not only for giving my parents such a good impression, but for forgiving my horrible date and now, for this fiasco. I will not let you down. I will make sure that everyone in that company knows what a star they have in their midst; how hard you work, and how dedicated you are. Whatever you need, I will do. I promise you.” She was looking at Myka intently, her eyes steady on Myka’s. Myka nodded, slowly, and Helena jumped up, running to the stove to set aside what looked like pancakes before adding more mix to the pan.

 

“Now, come along and let’s have some breakfast,” Helena said, sounding very much like Mary Poppins jollying along the Bankses, and Myka smiled helplessly. She was a sucker for an English accent, and this accent came along with a very pretty package. Perhaps she should stop worrying so much, and start enjoying some of the unexpected perks of this situation. Such as a Helena who appeared to be taking her promises seriously – not one night since she had promised had she been drunk, or in fact drunk much more than one glass of wine. And she had clearly pulled herself together, working on her writing and inventing. Myka nodded to herself. Helena had, aside from the one rather significant blip that was the shake incident, done exactly what she’d said she would. She would try, tentatively, to trust her wife, until she was proved wrong.

 

They sat together on the couch eating pancakes and bacon smothered with butter and maple syrup – not Myka’s usual choice for breakfast, but she didn’t much care, given the week she’d had. The coffee was delicious and fresh, and she was pretty sure she groaned more than once while eating her meal. Helena gave her a sideways glance filled with amusement, which she chose to ignore.

 

“Now, darling, it’s your day to plan a date,” Helena began, and Myka felt her teeth beginning to grind together. As if it should really be on her, to plan and execute a date, after this last week, after their date the weekend before? She opened her mouth to protest, and Helena held up a hand with a smile.

 

“As I was saying, it is your turn. But I was hoping you’d allow me to make a suggestion. Christina’s soccer team are playing today. I was hoping to go and see her play, and then I thought perhaps you could choose somewhere to eat. That way, you’ve chosen something, but it’s not too taxing. Christina really likes you, I can tell. What do you think?”

 

Myka relaxed, nodding her head.

 

“Yes. Let’s do that. Thank you. Helena,” she said with a smile, and Helena waved her hand in the air, dismissing her gratitude.

 

“No need to thank me, Myka. I have a long way to go before I even begin to approach making all this up to you,” Helena said, with a wince. Myka shrugged, and they left the subject there.

 

They spent a pleasant day at Inwood Hill Park in Manhattan, which was close to where Charles lived, watching Christina’s soccer team play. Myka was stunned to find out that Helena had actually helped to coach the team. Watching her interact with the kids, encouraging them, ruffling their hair and high-fiving them when they did well. She was pretty sure, at one point, that she felt her own ovaries contract and pop out a few extra eggs in response. She was starting to harbour a fairly serious crush on her wife, and it was getting harder to hide.

 

“She’s good with them, isn’t she?” Charles remarked as he came to sit next to her on the picnic blanket from which she had been watching Helena interact with Christina and the rest of the soccer team.

 

“Yeah, she really is,” Myka said, trying to keep her tone as un-dreamy as possible. From Charles’ smirk, she thought she might have failed quite miserably.

 

“She really does care about you, you know. She called me last night, after you fell asleep, to tell me what happened. She was actually crying,” Charles said, settling back on his elbows, his eyes following his daughter and the rest of the team as they fist-bumped in preparation for the second half. “You have no idea how unusual that is. For her to cry, and for her to talk to me about something? She must have really been devastated.”

 

“I… it was pretty upsetting, what happened,” Myka said, hesitantly, and Charles nodded sympathetically.

 

“I, too, have been on the receiving end of Helena’s devious tricks. Although it seems like this one might have been more Miss Donovan’s fault. Helena really is genuinely sorry, though, I hope you know. I really haven’t ever heard her that upset,” Charles said, and Myka looked at him curiously.

 

“I hope you’re not lying to me to get me on your sister’s side,” she said, after a moment, and Charles laughed.

 

“I’m not generally her biggest cheerleader, Myka, I can assure you,” he said. “She and I have been at loggerheads since we were children. I think we were both thirsty for our father’s approval and we fought over it at every opportunity. I have mellowed a little; she hasn’t. Or at least not until recently,” he said, thoughtfully, with a sideways glance at Myka.

 

Myka didn’t say anything, just watched Helena quietly as she hugged Christina before sending her off for the next half.

 

“Thanks, Charles,” she said, eventually, just before Helena turned to come back and join her. He gave her a small, knowing smile, and turned to speak to Helena.

 

“How are the little ones, then?” he asked idly, and Helena sat, cross-legged, next to Myka.

 

“They’re doing well. Little scamps. Christina is upset that she’s not to concentrate on goal, but I told her, this is a time for defence, not attack. They’re already 3 goals up, they just need to maintain that momentum and prevent any silly mistakes,” Helena said, her forehead wrinkling adorably as she spoke. She and Charles talked about the game for a little bit longer, watching the teams run back and forward, and occasionally shouting encouragement. Myka watched in silence, feeling that warmth build in her chest once again. She was in trouble, was all she could think. Because this version of Helena, the sweet, loving version who actually cared about others? Who cared about kids and their soccer games? She would be very, very easy to fall in love with.

 

“Are you having an okay time?” Helena asked, quietly, after a lull in her conversation with Charles.

 

“Yeah,” Myka said, with a goofy smile. She tried not to smile like an idiot, but she really was having the best time. Helena smiled back at her, a wide, delighted smile that Myka didn’t remember seeing before. She liked it; it made Helena even more luminously beautiful. She blinked, to clear the stars from her eyes, and focused on what Helena was saying.

 

“I thought you might want to eat outside, so I packed a picnic for us to share later,” Helena said, and Myka stared at her.

 

“I thought you wanted me to choose somewhere to eat?” she asked, confused.

 

“You absolutely can, if that’s what you want,” Helena said, holding up a hand. “I just wanted you to know that the option is there, if you want it. There are some lovely spots in the woods, and it’s such a lovely day.”

 

Myka was helpless to stop the smile from growing on her face. She’d never had a picnic before, let alone a picnic in a place as beautiful as this. She just nodded, unable to speak, and Helena smiled, reaching out to take her hand as they turned back to watch the game.

 

“4-2, Christina,” Helena said, emphatically, as her niece approached with an expression of resignation on her face. “And it would have been worse, had you been focusing on attack rather than defence, am I right?” Helena chided gently. Her niece nodded reluctantly, then looked up with a sly smile.

 

“You’re always right, Aunt Helena,” Christina said, in a long-suffering voice, and Helena tickled her mercilessly in response. Myka watched them with what she feared was yet another dreamy expression, despite her attempts at keeping her face blank.

 

They left Charles and Christina shortly afterwards, and Helena led Myka to a small clearing near a duck pond in the middle of the woods. The sun was streaming through the trees and Myka wasn’t sure it could have been any more picturesque. They lazed around on the picnic blanket eating sandwiches with all sorts of delicious combinations, and enjoyed champagne that somehow Helena had managed to stash in her bag without Myka noticing.

 

“You are actually a really good cook,” Myka said, conversationally, as she finished up a sandwich that had grapes and some sort of smoked meat inside, among other ingredients that she couldn’t identify.

 

“I like to do things well. I tried taking a cooking class, but I couldn’t get my head around baking, so I gave up,” Helena said, shrugging.

 

“Why? You were clearly good at some things. Just because you couldn’t do that one part, you gave up?” Myka asked. Helena looked at her for a long moment, her eyes clear and almost amber in the sunlight.

 

“I… I wanted to make my dad proud. I brought home some of my baking one day, and he criticised it, and that was it for me. I just stopped going to the classes,” Helena said, and it was clear that it pained her to admit it.

 

“You know, I’m sure your dad means well, even when he’s criticising. He just wants you to do better,” Myka said lightly. Helena gave her a very direct look.

 

“Is that what your father did? Helped you to do better by constantly criticising and making you feel like you weren’t good enough?” Helena asked, with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Touché,” Myka said, with a slight grimace. “You have a point. I apologise. You have a right to feel however you want. But as the current beneficiary of your cooking talent, I’m glad you went to at least some cooking classes,” she said, smiling cheekily, and Helena smiled at her.

 

“That, I will accept. But I can tell you that you wouldn’t have been saying that if you had tasted my pastry,” she said, and Myka snickered. “What on earth are you laughing at?” Helena asked, bemused.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m just being a child. You said ‘tasted your pastry’ and my mind went… well, to places,” Myka said.

 

“You know, for someone with such a grown up job, you have a surprisingly juvenile sense of humour,” Helena observed with a grin.

 

“Pete’s my best friend. I don’t know what else to tell you,” Myka said with a shrug.

 

They were quiet for a few moments, but Helena turned to Myka and gave her an apologetic look.

 

“I am really sorry, you know. About yesterday,” she said, and she was clearly upset, her eyes beginning to fill. Myka reached over and took her hand.

 

“I know, Helena. It’s okay. It was horrible, I won’t lie, but I understand that you didn’t mean it to happen. I think we can all agree that getting smashed on a regular basis wasn’t doing you any good, so I’m glad you’re not doing that anymore. But let’s just forget about it, okay? I mean, I’m still going to kick Claudia’s ass the next time I see her, but other than that, I’d rather forget it ever happened,” Myka said, stroking Helena’s hand absently.

 

Helena was looking at her strangely.

 

“I don’t deserve you, you know,” she said, and Myka shrugged, about to say something self-deprecating, but Helena was moving closer to her, and closer still, and then she was kissing Myka gently, softly, as if she was frightened that she would move away. Myka froze for a moment, but then she let her hand trail up Helena’s neck and into her hair. She had been wanting to do this for a long time now, even with all of the difficulties and the shitty things that had happened between them. Helena didn’t let it go too far; she moved back when they started getting breathless. She smiled at Myka, pushing a curl away from her eyes, and suggested that they started to make their way back. It took Myka more than a moment to collect herself, but then she was up and helping Helena to pack up the remains of their picnic.

 

That day, Myka always thought when she looked back, was the turning point between them. The date was perfect, Helena was perfect, their kiss was perfect. When they got home they relaxed for a while and then ordered Chinese food and ate on the couch, watching a new Netflix series that had them both hooked. That night Helena kissed her lightly on the cheek just before she turned off the light, murmuring “good night,” into her ear. Myka climbed into bed, her skin erupting into goosebumps from that simple touch. It was a much nicer way to go to sleep than after a fight or waiting for Helena to come back after a drinking session.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unscheduled trip to Colorado Springs

* * *

 

The next few weeks were busy for Myka. She didn’t spend much time at home, working late into the night at the office almost every night, even returning to the office some nights after their counselling session with Mrs Frederic. Helena could have used it against her in those sessions, said she was neglecting their marriage, but she just smiled and said she supported Myka 100% in her work since Myka was the one paying the bills. Their sessions were going well, and Mrs Frederic was also seeing Helena alone once a week to help her through some of her issues with her father and with her own tendency to self-sabotage by giving up on things she felt she wasn’t good enough at.

 

It was three weeks after their picnic in the park when Myka got a call from Tracy, her sister.

 

“Myka? It’s about Dad – he’s okay, don’t worry, but there was some sort of a screwup at the bank and they lost his payment on the store,” Tracy said, all in one breath, and Myka paused, knowing what was next.

 

“Myka? Are you there?” Tracy asked.

 

“Yeah, sorry Trace. So Dad’s missed a payment on the store?” she asked, dully. This wasn’t the first time.

 

“He says the bank screwed up. I don’t know, Myka,” Tracy said. “Anyway, the bank is going to foreclose on them if the payment isn’t in there by first thing Monday. And they only take cash in person, you remember how the bank manager is.”

 

Myka did indeed remember how the bank manager was. Adwin Kosan was a stickler for the rules and never let the payments go more than a few days overdue before beginning foreclosure procedures. It had happened to a few of her friend’s parents back before she’d left Colorado. Myka looked at the calendar on the wall, and then at Helena, who was sitting next to her on the sofa, reading. It was the night after their counselling session and Myka had decided to come home early enough to eat with Helena. She was clocking up the hours and earning a lot of money for the firm and she clearly had the upper hand over Sally Stukowski, at least for now.

 

“Okay, Trace. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do. I’ll call you and let you know.”

 

Tracy thanked her and hung up, and Helena turned to look at her quizzically once she’d put the phone down.

 

“What’s happening with your father’s store?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

“According to my sister, he says the bank screwed up and lost his payment. But honestly, this has happened before. I don’t know if it’s pride or what, but he pretends that there’s been a mistake and that the bank manager wants to speak to me, and then I go and make the payment and we pretend that they found the money. I mean, it’s stupid, I guess, that he can’t just admit that the store isn’t doing well, but I still don’t want him to lose it. And Tracy and Kevin are about to have a baby. But it’s not just my money, now. Are you okay if I pay this month for him?” Myka asked.

 

Helena stared at her for a moment.

 

“You’re really asking my permission to spend the money that only you have earned?” she asked incredulously.

 

“Well, like I said. We’re a couple, we share our money. So yes, I’m asking,” Myka said.

 

“Well I think you’re daft, Myka Bering, but of course. You earned that money and I can understand you not wanting to lose your childhood home or your father’s business. So go ahead, do what you have to,” Helena said, with a smile and a shake of her head.

 

Myka looked at her for a long moment and then nodded, going straight to her laptop to look for flights. And then she had another thought.

 

“Would you – would you like to come with me, to Colorado? Because the payment has to be made in person, so I have to go. And I’ve met your family, so…” she trailed off, her face burning, as Helena looked at her strangely.

 

“You want me to meet your family?” Helena asked. She didn’t look surprised, or happy, however. She looked… stricken.

 

“Yes,” Myka said, wondering what was wrong with that. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought…”

 

Helena’s lips were covering hers, tears falling between them, and Myka was thoroughly confused, but she couldn’t help but respond to the kiss. Helena was saying something, fervently, in that kiss, but Myka just wasn’t sure what it was. She responded, however, her heart speeding and her breath coming in short gasps, because Helena was amazing and beautiful and passionate and was kissing her like she wouldn’t have cared if the world was on fire around them. There was salt on their lips and Helena’s hand was in Myka’s hair, massaging at the back of her skull, and Myka was on the verge of losing control. She didn’t like to lose control, and that was half the problem with Helena from the start; she’d upset the applecart, challenged Myka from the first second they met, and now Myka was different, changed.

 

She moved away slowly, to show that she wasn’t opposed to doing this again, and Helena smiled at her beatifically, tears still in her eyes.

 

“Can I take that as a yes?” Myka asked dryly, and Helena nodded, wiping her eyes. Myka grinned at her and, after a few minutes of searching, found and booked some flights for the following morning, wincing slightly at the price.

 

“Okay, done,” she said, with a flourish, and Helena smiled at her, still wiping at her eyes. Myka made a note to ask her about her reaction at a later time, when emotions weren’t as high. 

 

~

 

The flight to Colorado was on time, but as they were showing their boarding passes at the gate, the flight attendant frowned and turned away, coming back with two first class tickets that Myka hadn’t ordered.

 

“We didn’t book first class,” Myka said, and the attendant smiled.

 

“Well, someone did, so just sit back and relax, ma’ams,” she said, winking at them both. Myka and Helena shared mystified looks but went as they were directed, sitting in the huge and comfortable chairs and being handed a glass of champagne within seconds of sitting down.

 

“Wow,” Myka said, taking a sip of the champagne and looking around at their surroundings. “How the hell did this happen?” she asked, and Helena reddened.

  
“I think I know,” she said, so quietly that Myka almost didn’t hear her.

 

“Care to elaborate?” Myka asked, eyes narrowed. Helena shrugged uncomfortably.

 

“It’s Claudia. She’s a bit of a devil with a computer, and I did tell her you’d invited me to meet your family. She was pleased for me – for us – so she might have found a way to bump us up into first class. I didn’t know she was going to do it,” Helena said, holding up a hand to forestall any protests. “I would have told her that you wouldn’t have wanted this. But now that we’re here, we might as well enjoy it, don’t you think?”

 

Myka considered for a moment, and then nodded. They were here and they might as well enjoy the perks. But she didn’t like taking things she hadn’t earned. She had a sudden thought.

 

“Is that how you got the Hamilton tickets? And that restaurant?” she asked, a little accusatory, and Helena flushed again.

 

“It was. But there was no wrongdoing involved, I assure you. She just assigned us those wonderful seats that were being saved as house seats, she didn’t steal them. And I paid full price, I assure you. The restaurant she managed to book with a special deal so the food wasn’t half as expensive, but it was just a voucher code from the internet, Myka. No-one was hurt and nothing was stolen. And airlines give out free upgrades all the time, so this isn’t hurting anyone, either,” Helena said, and Myka nodded after a few moments.

 

“Will you please tell me, next time, so we can consider if something is okay or not? Claudia might be happy with hacking her way into things but I’m not sure I’m comfortable with it,” Myka said, and Helena nodded.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I believe it was also intended as an apology to you,” Helena said tentatively. Myka nodded. She’d figured as much. It didn’t settle things between them. She and Claudia still had a problem. But at least the young woman was admitting fault, albeit rather obliquely.

 

The flight was wonderful. Myka was truly relaxed, plied with food and drink, and Helena was smiling at her as if Myka was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. When they arrived in Colorado, Tracy was there to meet them, driving a beat-up old SUV.

 

“Hey, sis,” Tracy said, getting out of the car and immediately wrapping her arms around Myka, surprising her intensely. It had been a while since they’d seen each other, but on the last occasion Tracy had sniped at her the whole time about living in the city and abandoning their father.

 

“Hey, Trace,” Myka said, drawing back and taking a good look at her sister, who was heavily pregnant. “How far along are you now? You look like you’re ready to pop!” she said, and Tracy snorted.

 

“I’m only 7 months. I hate to think what I’m going to look like at 9 months,” Tracy said, laughing. She caught sight of Helena, who was standing behind Myka holding her small overnight case, clearly feeling awkward.

 

“Hi, I’m Tracy, Myka’s younger sister. Pleased to meet you,” Tracy said, sticking her hand out with a bright smile.

 

“Hi, I’m Helena. I’m…” Helena looked at Myka in appeal. It was her decision how to explain their relationship to her family, Myka reasoned. She coughed nervously.

 

“Helena is my wife. We got married a couple of months ago in Vegas,” Myka said, and Tracy stared at them, open-mouthed, for what felt like an hour. She then smiled broadly and drew Helena into a hug.

 

“Welcome to the family, Helena. And Myka, you dark horse! Why didn’t you tell me?” Tracy asked, bumping Myka’s shoulder with hers.

 

“It was kind of a… spur of the moment thing, and this relationship of ours is kind of new,” Myka said, exchanging a nervous glance with Helena.

 

“Well that’s great, Myka. You look really… relaxed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Helena must agree with you,” Tracy said with a wink, before opening the trunk to let them put away their bags. They got in the car and went straight to Tracy’s house, dropping off their bags in the guest room, before heading to the bank in the centre of the city.

 

“I don’t know how to thank you for this, Myka,” Tracy said, when they were nearing the bank. “Mom came by last night to tell me that Dad is running the business into the ground, and that he’s missed four payments on the mortgage now, and you’ve paid them all. I thought you’d abandoned them – the way Dad made it out, you’d moved away and forgotten all about us. But Mom explained that you call her every week and it was Dad who refused to speak to you. I owe you an apology,” she said, looking at the road fixedly.

 

“It’s okay, Tracy,” Myka said quietly, touching her sister’s arm gently, so as not to disturb her driving. “You didn’t know.”

 

“I should have,” Tracy said, shaking her head.

 

“Yes, you should have,” Helena said, from the back seat, and Myka turned to shake her head at her.

 

“Helena, no, it’s not…”

 

“It’s my fault,” Tracy said. “Please, Helena. Carry on.”

 

“Myka is the kindest, most generous person I’ve ever met. She has supported and cared for me for months, not asking for a thing in return, cooking for me, holding my life together in a way that no-one ever has. She’s not the kind of person to just abandon her family. As her sister, I can’t believe you didn’t already know that,” Helena said, and Myka drew in a sharp breath at her tone. If she hadn’t known better, she would have assumed that Helena loved her, from the way she was talking.

 

“I did know that,” Tracy said, with the air of someone confessing a deep secret. “She… Dad always treated me like I was his favourite, and I didn’t want to change that by rocking the boat,” Tracy said, ashamed. Her face was red. “I really am sorry, Myka. And I’m glad you’ve found someone who loves you as much as Helena obviously does.” She sniffled a little, and Myka squeezed her arm gently.

 

“Trace – Dad… he tried to set us against one another, to make us enemies. I don’t know why. But I love you, and I forgive you,” Myka said, and tears dripped from the end of Tracy’s nose. “Now, either pull over until you stop crying, or calm down and let’s get to the bank!”

 

Tracy laughed, a little hysterically, and wiped her eyes. They made the rest of the drive in silence, and Myka left Helena in the car with Tracy as she went straight into the bank, asking for the manager, Mr Kosan.

 

“Miss Bering, what a pleasure to see you again,” Mr Kosan said smoothly. He was a tall, handsome man of Pakistani descent, his bald head gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights of the banking hall.

 

“Thank you, Mr Kosan,” Myka said with a wry smile. “I’ve come to make a payment for my Dad’s store,” she said, and he nodded.

 

“I thought we might see you sooner rather than later. Your father’s payments have been coming later and later,” he said, with a sad smile.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr Kosan. I’ll do whatever I can to resolve this, I promise you,” Myka said, pulling out the envelope of cash she’d taken from her own bank account in New York.

 

“Thank you, Miss Bering,” he said, passing her the form that she needed to fill in to make the payment. She filled it in quickly, putting it and the cash into the bank envelope and passing it to the manager.

 

“If you have any more problems with my Dad’s payments, would you mind just calling me? I don’t think he was going to, this time, and I want to make sure he doesn’t lose the store,” Myka said.

 

“If he gives his permission, I can do that,” Mr Kosan said.

 

“Hmm. I don’t know if he’ll agree to that,” Myka said wryly. Mr Kosan just nodded sadly.

 

“Good luck, Miss Bering,” he said, by way of goodbye.

 

Myka made her way back to the car, smiling as she noticed Helena and Tracy talking animatedly. She climbed in, nodding when Tracy asked if she’d fixed the problem.

 

“All done. Mr Kosan says Dad has been struggling to pay and that his payments are coming later and later,” Myka said worriedly. Helena’s face reddened, and Myka frowned, wondering why. She filed it away for later, when they were alone, and pulled on her seatbelt as Tracy pulled out into traffic to head back to her house.

 

“I didn’t know things were so bad,” Tracy said, biting her lip in worry.

 

“It seems like they are. Has he tried to change anything, got any advice, brought in any new types of books?” Myka asked, though she knew the answer. Her father, Warren Bering, was too proud to admit that he wasn’t a good businessman, and his obsession with the classics and not buying modern books had cost them a lot of business over time. The idiot had even refused to stock Harry Potter, for crying out loud.

 

“No, he hasn’t,” Tracy said, sighing. “Mom tried to talk him into getting a consultant in, someone to have a look at the business as an outsider, to make suggestions, but he refused.”

 

“Idiot,” Myka said, shaking her head. They made the rest of the journey in silence. Myka couldn’t help but think of the money that was currently being held up while she and Helena completed their six months of mandated marriage. It could help her family, a lot, by getting them out from under the debt from the mortgage on the store and the apartment above it. But then, Helena needed money too. She still didn’t have a job, and while she was working hard on a novel and several complicated-looking pieces of machinery, she needed money. If they didn’t stay together at the end of their six months, Helena would need something. Was Myka just being selfish, putting her family’s needs before Helena’s? She snuck a look at her wife, who was staring out at the traffic outside the SUV’s rather grubby windows. She didn’t look happy, and Myka wasn’t sure what she was thinking about. The thought of parting ways with her at the end of their six months of marriage made Myka’s stomach clench. She hoped that the small intimacies they had been sharing meant that Helena wanted more with her, but she really wasn’t sure. She gnawed on a thumbnail as she watched Helena from the corner of her eye.

 

They had dinner at Tracy’s house, a small, homely place that she shared with her husband Kevin, when he wasn’t away on business.

 

“He spends a lot of time away. He’s doing it now so that he can be here when the baby arrives,” Tracy said, touching her huge baby bump unconsciously. Myka couldn’t help but notice that Helena was looking at her sister’s belly wistfully. Did Helena want kids? She caught Myka looking at her and smiled, looking away.

 

Tracy made Myka tell her the whole sad story of Sam, how he’d broken up with her and the appallingly embarrassing way it had all happened. Myka realised by the end of telling the story that it didn’t hurt anymore. It was a shock, given that a few months before Sam had been her sole focus, other than her work. When had that happened? She certainly hadn’t noticed the change. Just then, Helena took her hand absently, tracing her fingertips along Myka’s palm. It occurred to Myka then that it might have been Helena who’d made the difference.

 

They had an early night, both tired from the flight. It was after she’d brushed her teeth that Myka realised there was only one bed in the guest room – of course there was, because Tracy hadn’t known, initially, that Myka was bringing Helena, and now of course she thought they were married for real. Myka sighed as she entered the room. Helena was sitting on the edge of the bed, fidgeting awkwardly.

 

“I… I didn’t know what to do,” Helena said, indicating the small room. There wasn’t really enough floorspace for either of them to sleep on the floor even if they’d wanted to. And they didn’t want to clue Tracy into the fact that this wasn’t a real marriage.

 

“It’s fine, Helena. We can share, right? It’s not like we haven’t done that before,” Myka said, with a wry smile. Helena smiled back, one eyebrow cocked.

 

“If you’re looking for a repeat performance, I’m not sure I have the energy tonight,” Helena said, and Myka shook her head.

 

“How did I know you were going to say something like that?” she said, grinning.

 

“You’re married to me now, love,” Helena said, with a wink, and Myka’s heart clenched a little in her chest. Yes, they were married, but it wasn’t real, was it? She sighed quietly to herself and got into bed, Helena getting in beside her. They turned the lights off and lay in silence for a moment, not touching.

 

“What was wrong, earlier?” Myka asked quietly. “When we were talking about my Dad managing the shop badly. You went all red and upset. Did I – did something happen? Did Tracy say something to you?”

 

“Tracy said a lot of things, but none of them were in the least upsetting,” Helena said, and Myka could hear the smile in her voice. “She cares about you a great deal, and regrets her earlier behaviour immensely.”

 

“Okay, so what was it? Did I do something?” Myka asked, and Helena took her hand in the darkness, her thumb tracing gently over Myka’s wrist.

 

“You did nothing wrong. I was simply thinking about what you said earlier, when we first started out in my apartment, that you wanted to give your family money, and I realised that in my selfishness, I have come to be in the way of that. Your father – he doesn’t seem to have a head for business, but I can tell that you love the store and you don’t want your father to lose it. I was thinking that perhaps it’s time for us to go back to the judge so that I can tell him that I wish you to have the money, and you can have your divorce or annulment as you wish,” Helena said, softly. Myka’s stomach clenched.

 

“I… I won’t say I didn’t want it at the beginning, Helena, but…” Myka took a deep breath. “That’s not what I want, now. Unless you do. Because you’ve become really important to me, and I don’t want to lose you,” Myka said, surprised at how steady her own voice sounded. She hadn’t meant to say any of that, but she really didn’t want to lose Helena.

 

“Are you sure?” Helena asked, squeezing Myka’s hand gently.

 

“I am,” Myka said, and Helena’s arm slid around her waist, pulling their bodies together.

 

“May I kiss you, Myka Bering?” Helena asked, her voice husky.

 

“Please,” Myka said, shakily, her breath coming in small gasps. The kiss that followed was beautiful, deep, loving. Myka pulled Helena closer, her hand sliding up into Helena’s hair, the strands slipping between her hands like cool silk. She loved the way it felt, and between the feeling of Helena’s tongue on hers and the hair between her fingers, she was becoming breathless.

 

“I think we should stop now,” Helena said, regretfully, ten or so minutes later, when hands were beginning to wander. Myka was in a haze of lust, and she wanted – oh, she wanted – to touch Helena everywhere. She wanted Helena to touch her. She wanted everything.

 

“Ah… okay,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. “I’m sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.”

 

“ _You_ got carried away?” Helena said, chuckling. “It’s all I can do not to rip those ridiculously short shorts right off you right now, Myka Bering, I can assure you.” Her voice was husky and deep, and Myka had no trouble believing that she was being sincere.

 

“Then why did we stop?” Myka couldn’t stop herself from asking. She could feel her blush in the dark.

 

“Because, Myka Bering, when I make love to you for the first time, I want to be sure that you know that that is what it is – love, not lust,” Helena breathed in her ear, and Myka kissed her again, fervently, unable to stop herself from doing that, either. Helena pulled back after a few moments.

 

“Time to sleep, I think,” she said in a rough voice that said she was not unaffected by the kisses they’d shared.

 

“Hmm,” Myka agreed, turning to lie on her side, her customary sleeping position. She was surprised but pleased when Helena wrapped herself around Myka’s body, kissing the nape of her neck, once, before breathing in deeply and seemingly falling asleep. The rhythm of her breath was hypnotic, and that and the warmth of her body helped Myka drift off within moments.

 

***

 

When she woke the following morning, it was just past dawn, and she was tempted to grab her running shoes and go out for a long run. Colorado Springs was pretty first thing in the morning, especially here, where Tracy lived. It had a beautiful view of Pikes Peak and was only a few minutes away from a park where Myka used to run when she lived here. However, there was one reason why she thought she might give the run a miss, and that was the warm body wrapped around hers. Helena had this amazing scent, a mixture of her subtle perfume and her shampoo, something apple-y mixed with a sweet citrus smell. It was beautiful, and mixed with Helena’s own scent it was fast becoming the scent of home for Myka. It was funny, she thought, that humans tried so hard to be better than animals, to be civilized and intellectual, but something as seemingly insignificant as a person’s scent had an incredible pull, an incredible power over both senses and emotions. Myka took a deep breath in, moving minutely so she could hold Helena a little closer. Helena’s head was tucked in the crook of Myka’s neck, and Myka’s face was more or less buried in Helena’s hair. She was so comfortable and content that she fell asleep again, waking up a few hours later, just after 9am.

 

“Good morning,” Helena murmured, still wrapped around Myka. Myka opened her eyes to find Helena right there, her face inches from Myka’s own.

 

“Good morning yourself,” she said, with a smile. She was feeling warm and content and didn’t particularly want to move.

 

“You woke up earlier, but you decided to stay in bed,” Helena said, narrowing her eyes at Myka, almost accusatory. “Why?”

 

Myka shrugged. “I was comfortable and warm and I didn’t want to move you. You feel so nice in my arms.”

 

To her surprise and delight, Helena blushed, looking down. Myka couldn’t help but chuckle.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling shy, Helena Wells,” she said. Helena still didn’t look at her. She tilted Helena’s chin up, then, so that she had to meet Myka’s eyes. She was red-faced and looked insecure and vulnerable.

 

“You _are_ shy. Why?” Myka asked, half whispering as she examined Helena’s face carefully.

 

“I… you make me feel strange,” Helena muttered. Myka smiled, and couldn’t help but move closer to kiss Helena gently.

 

“You don’t need to be shy with me,” she said, her voice husky, and Helena just smiled at her, looking almost hopeful, before she leaned up and kissed Myka, a little deeper this time. It was a while later when Tracy knocked on their door to ask if they wanted to come down for breakfast. Myka reluctantly extricated herself from an equally reluctant Helena, her hair mussed and her lips swollen.

 

“Shall we table this discussion?” Myka asked, and Helena smirked.

 

“Indeed. But I believe you owe me a date, Ms Bering, and I want to see where you grew up,” Helena said with a smile. Myka’s answering smile was broad. She’d brought Sam to Colorado once, but he was constantly bored and was never interested in the things that she’d done when she was growing up, the places she’d visited. He was only interested in things he cared about, like football and the stock market and expensive scotch. He wasn’t interested in seeing her fencing or shooting trophies, or seeing the school she went to or the playing fields where she used to hang out with her friends (or rather, where she used to read while the rest of the school ignored the nerd girl). Helena, it appeared, was actually interested in learning about her past. She grinned widely, and Helena leaned up again to kiss her.

 

“What was that for?” she asked.

 

“Just because you looked happy,” Helena said, and Myka couldn’t help but smile even more widely.

 

They had pancakes and bacon and eggs, Tracy tucking in to an impressive amount of food.

 

“I’m eating for two,” she said airily, when Myka stopped to stare at how much she was piling on her plate.

 

“Two what? Elephants?” Myka asked, rudely, and Tracy stuck her tongue out at her in response. No matter how old they got, sisters were sisters, it appeared.

 

They went out for a walk to the local park, firstly, and Myka showed Helena where she used to go running. There was a trail leading to a really pretty little spot where there was a tiny waterfall in a clearing; the kind of place that looked like maybe it was frequented by fairy queens and wood nymphs.  It had been a long time since she’d been here, with the clear air and the beautiful scenery, and Myka found that she missed it.

 

“It’s beautiful here,” Helena said, echoing her thoughts, and Myka nodded.

 

“I miss it, sometimes. More than I realise, I think.”

 

“Do you ever think about coming back here?” Helena asked.

 

“Not really. I mean, I think about coming home and running the bookstore sometimes. I think I’d enjoy it. But not if my dad was involved. I guess you’re probably already getting a sense that he’s a little difficult,” Myka said wryly. “I love him and all, but I couldn’t go back to working in that space with him. But if it was my place – I would love to revamp the whole place, and have kids running around, and I’d have a storytelling corner…” she cut herself off abruptly. “Anyway, it’s never going to happen. My dad is going to run that place into the ground, and god knows what will happen to him and my mom then.”

 

Helena gave her a sympathetic look.

 

“I’m sorry, darling. The man’s a fool, in so many ways. To not realise what a wonderful daughter he has, and to be squandering his business the way he has.”

 

She reached out and took Myka’s hand in hers, and they continued walking in silence for a few minutes.

 

“What about you?” Myka asked, thoughtfully, as they sat on a bench near a small duck pond.

 

“What about me?” Helena asked, confused.

 

“Anything you dream of doing?” Myka asked.

 

“I think my dreams are similar to yours, love,” Helena said. “I’d love to run a bookstore. I’d love to have children underfoot, and story hour, and all of those wonderful things you mentioned. I could write in the office in the back, and you could run the store,” she finished, reddening as she realised what she was saying.

 

“That sounds pretty perfect,” Myka said quietly, and they smiled at each other, hands joined.

 

When they returned to Tracy’s house, she had an invitation for them.

 

“Mom called, and she said that Mr Kosan called her to say you’d made the payment for them. She wants you to come by for dinner. I told her you were here with someone, and after she got over her surprise she invited you too, Helena,” Tracy said. “I’m going to come, too, just to run interference. Dad can be such an ass when it comes to you, Myka,” she said, and Myka nodded.

 

“Thanks, Trace. I hope we won’t need it, but you know dad.”

 

They spent the rest of the day visiting landmarks from Myka’s childhood. The sports centre where she won the National Fencing Championship, the parking lot where she had her first kiss (Helena made her re-enact it, causing lots of blushing on Myka’s part), her high school and the library where she spent such a lot of her childhood.

 

They dressed up a little for dinner, Helena wanting to make a good impression with Myka’s parents, and Myka not wanting to give her dad any reason to criticise her. They turned up right on time, because tardiness was another of Mr Bering’s many bugbears, and thankfully Myka’s mother welcomed Helena warmly.

 

“I can’t believe Myka didn’t tell us she got married! And to such an incredibly beautiful woman!” Jean Bering said, clasping Helena’s face in her hands before hugging her warmly.

 

“Thank you so much, Mrs Bering. I certainly don’t deserve your daughter, but I’ve been lucky enough to snag her,” Helena said, and Mrs Bering let out a cry of delight.

 

“My Lord! You’re British, too? Myka always wanted to marry a tall, dark and handsome British man. She got most of it right, didn’t you honey?” Mrs Bering pulled Myka into a hug then, breathing a ‘thank you for paying the rent, honey,’ into her ear before letting her go.

 

“Well, I definitely lack some of the requisite parts, but I hope I haven’t proved to be too much of a disappointment,” Helena said, with a wicked grin. Myka blushed hotly, hitting Helena on the arm gently.

 

“You can’t say that to my Mom, Helena!” she managed, after choking for a few seconds.

 

“I believe I just did, darling,” Helena said with a smug smile, clearly enjoying the reaction of Myka’s mother and sister, who were laughing harder by the minute at Myka’s embarrassment.

 

“I brought this on myself, I should never have brought you here,” Myka said, ruefully, and Helena smiled even wider.

 

“You love me, admit it,” she said, kissing Myka’s cheek noisily. Myka just shook her head.

 

“Of course I do,” she said, and she felt Helena freeze against her for a second before they moved into the dining room where Warren Bering was lying in wait.

 

“Well, hello, Myka. And who’s this you’ve brought with you?” he asked, despite clearly having overheard their conversation in the corridor just outside. Myka flushed, this time with annoyance and embarrassment.

 

“This is my wife, Helena. We met a few months ago and married pretty much straight away. I didn’t have time to come up and let you guys meet, until now,” Myka said, her face hardening. Her dad was such an ass.

 

“Well. It’s a shame we have to find out after everyone else, but I suppose if that’s the way you want to do things, I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said huffily, dismissing her and Helena with a glance. Helena looked at Myka uncertainly, taking in her stiff body language and her clenched fists.

 

“Well, I suppose it could be viewed as a shame, Mr Bering,” Helena said, softly, taking Myka’s hand and unfurling each of the fingers gently, stroking her palm. “We are very pleased, however, to be here now, and it’s a pleasure to meet someone who’s been such an influence on my beautiful wife’s life.”

 

Mr Bering looked up, shamed, and nodded at Helena.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he said, grudgingly. The atmosphere improved exponentially after that, Mrs Bering going into the kitchen to finish whatever preparations she had to make, and Tracy sitting herself down, talking incessantly about the pregnancy and her preparations for the baby’s arrival. She really was a godsend, Myka realised, as her sister prattled on, defusing the atmosphere deftly despite their father’s dark looks. The rest of the dinner was pleasant enough, in the circumstances, but they made their excuses early and headed back to Tracy’s house, using their flight the next morning as the reason for the early departure.

 

“Jesus, Myka, you weren’t joking about him, were you?” Helena said once they were in the privacy of Tracy’s car. “He’s a real piece of work, as I believe you Americans say.”

 

“He is that,” Myka said, and Tracy nodded, too.

 

“I guess I’ve never really seen him for what he is – he’s always treated me so well. But he was so rude to you, Myka. And after you paid to make sure he still has a store? I can’t believe it!” Tracy burst out.

 

“He’s always like that,” Myka said, shrugging. “No matter what I did right, it was always that way. I could never do the right thing. And everything you did, Tracy – he treated you so well, even when you screwed up. It’s not much of a wonder that I got away from here as soon as I could,” she said, and she could tell that her eyes were filling with tears now that the evening was over. Helena leaned forward from the backseat to take her hand, rubbing the back of it gently.

 

“Pay him no attention, love,” Helena said, vehemently. “He doesn’t deserve your regard.”

 

“Thank you for saying that,” Myka said, dully. Helena reached forward from the back seat and grasped her shoulder, squeezing firmly.

 

“I mean it, Myka. You don’t deserve the way he treats you. Especially after what you’ve done for him. It’s outrageous,” Helena said, and the anger was clear in her voice.

 

“At least you’ve picked a winner with this one,” Tracy said, using her thumb to indicate Helena. “Helena clearly appreciates you for who you are.”

 

Myka blushed.

 

“It’s no reflection on my character, Tracy, I can assure you. How can a person not appreciate Myka? She works so hard, she cares deeply and she has never, even when I’ve treated her terribly, done the same in return. She’s wonderful. I’m lucky to have this time with her,” Helena said, and her voice was vehement. Myka felt some of her tension melt away at the passion in Helena’s voice.

 

They had an early flight the following day, so once they arrived back at Tracy’s house they paused only to have a cup of chamomile tea before going upstairs to pack up their few belongings and get some sleep. When Myka was tucked up in bed, Helena came back from the bathroom and lay behind her, putting her arm around Myka’s waist again. Myka relaxed, leaning back against Helena and enjoying the comfort and warmth of her body.

 

“Did you really mean what you said to Tracy and my parents about me?” Myka asked quietly. It had been playing on her mind. Helena wasn’t exactly forthcoming when it came to praise, and it was the first time Myka had heard her say anything complimentary to anyone about Myka.

 

“I meant every word,” Helena said. “You… you’ve taught me a few things since we met, Myka Bering. I have been the quintessential wastrel since we met, and for a long time before. I have never really felt that anyone was on my side. I mean, Claudia and Abigail are, of course, but in some ways I think we’re a terrible influence on each other, all three of us.”

 

“I can’t disagree with you there,” Myka said, but there was no malice in the statement.

 

“In any case, you’ve looked after me, Myka. In probably hundreds of little ways. You could make dinner just for yourself when you’re home, but every time you make sure that there’s enough for me, too. You wash my clothes. You make sure there’s always some of my favourite cereal in the apartment, and you restock the shampoo and conditioner I like. You work all bloody day and sometimes all night, and you’re okay with sharing your earnings with me, who has contributed precisely nothing to our household. You even put a blanket on me when I pass out drunk. I don’t know if you did all of that stuff for Sam, if it’s just in your nature to be so kind and nurturing. But I have never had that, not with anyone. You don’t know how truly amazing you are, Myka. So yes, I meant every word I said to Tracy and your parents.”

 

Myka had begun to blush a little at the beginning of Helena’s speech, but by the end she was full on beaming. She was incredibly glad that the lights were off so Helena couldn’t see her blush, or the tears in her eyes. It was a moment before she was able to speak.

 

“Thank you, Helena. No-one has ever said anything like that about me before. I… thank you,” Myka said, trailing off when she realised that if she continued to speak, she was going to cry. Helena brushed her hair away from the back of her neck, leaning forward to press a small but insistent kiss against her nape as she had the night before. She tightened her hold around Myka’s waist and they went to sleep not long after, both wondering what was happening between them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ladies return from Colorado and their six months of marriage is almost at an end.It's the last weekend before they are due to return to Las Vegas to face the judge and they are scheduled to attend Myka's work retreat together. Will Helena keep her promises to Myka?

* * *

 

They said goodbye to an exhausted Tracy early the next morning – far too early, they had insisted, for a pregnant woman to be driving them to the airport. She gave in after arguing a little. It was clear that she was exhausted. They made promises to return soon for a longer visit and Myka found that, despite herself, she actually wanted to return to this home, to this version of Tracy and her mother. Not so much her father, given their fairly adversarial relationship. But even he had surprised her with his grudging politeness. Helena had a way with him. Hell, Helena had a way with anyone, when she wanted to. Myka stole a quick look at Helena’s profile as they sat in the back of their Uber. Helena’s eyes were closed and her jet-black eyelashes were in extreme contrast with the whiteness of her skin. Unbidden, a memory from their one night together returned to Myka. They’d been giggling, drunk, and then Helena had poured some of the syrupy champagne/fruit liquer mix down her cleavage, and Myka had stopped laughing abruptly. The drops of reddish, bubbling liquid against her stark white chest and the few freckles that dotted here and there in between her breasts – the image had quite taken Myka’s breath away, and while she didn’t recall exactly what happened afterwards, she remembered vividly the noises that Helena had made as Myka’s tongue lapped at her skin and brought her to the edge and over with skilful fingers.

 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Helena asked, breaking in to her thoughts. Myka turned to look at her in almost complete panic. She couldn’t hide what she had been thinking. Her face reddened and she felt the blush move down her neck and across her chest. Her tongue flicked across her lower lip and Helena stared at her for a long moment.

 

“Oh,” was all she said, a fact for which Myka was intensely grateful. On the flight later, however, she moved as close to Myka as she could before falling asleep with her face pressed to Myka’s shoulder.

 

The next few days were difficult for Myka. She was back working 12-14 hour days, and she barely saw Helena. Helena, for her part, was sticking to their agreement and each day when Myka returned there was some food ready and evidence that Helena had been working hard on her writing or on her new inventions. Their counselling session with Mrs Frederic had been more than satisfactory that week; the woman almost smiled when she said goodbye. Their homework for that weekend was not only to have a date, but to go out for an evening with their disparate groups of friends, to try to get to know one another through the eyes of their friends. They decided on bowling as the least objectionable activity for their friends to share, and mixed up the groups so that it wasn’t Helena’s friends versus Myka’s. That was how Myka ended up with Claudia Donovan on her bowling team. She hadn’t seen Claudia since the night she’d knocked on Leena’s door and made Myka cry.

 

“Hey,” Claudia said, as she approached ‘their’ lane. Pete was also on their team and he smiled and gave Claudia a quick hug but left Myka and Claudia to their discussion, watching them cautiously.

 

“Hey,” Myka said, her expression neutral. She met Claudia’s eyes evenly, and the young hacker winced when she saw Myka’s face.

 

“Listen, Myka,” Claudia began. Myka thought that might be the first time the woman had actually said her name, rather than calling her some insulting attempt at a married name. “I really… I screwed up, bad. I don’t really do apologies, but I know… Abigail and I have been talking, and we both realised we’ve been kind of… childish, since Vegas? We’re protective of Helena, she’s our friend. But you didn’t deserve the thing with the shake, and Helena told us that she lied about the date thing, too, with all the tentacles? So I’m sorry for that too. I thought you hurt her. I thought I was protecting her. But I was being an ass,” Claudia finished, picking at the thread on the bottom of her jeans before looking up and meeting Myka’s eyes.

 

“Okay,” Myka said, finally, and a truce was called. Myka’s team won their little bowling contest decisively, but by the end of the evening they were all having a great time. Everyone was a little merry but no-one was too drunk, and all in all Myka thought the night had been a great success.

 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” she asked, as she and Helena were getting settled for the night. Helena fluffed up her pillow before collapsing onto the sofa with a sigh of relief, pulling the blankets around her into a burrito.

 

“I really did. I had a wonderful time,” Helena said, with a smile, and Myka couldn’t help but smile back. “You and Claudia made up, I saw?”

 

“We did,” Myka said, with a little shrug. “She apologised, and I accepted. She actually seems like a great kid, when she’s not doing her best to be an asshole.”

 

Helena laughed.

 

“You’re right. She is an abrasive little thing, but she had a difficult upbringing. We bonded at college a while back. She’s a precocious girl. And very protective of me. I know she went too far, but she really isn’t a bad person.”

 

Myka nodded.

 

“I’ll give her another chance.”

 

Helena smiled at her so brightly that it made her heart clench. Myka was beginning to have a problem with their living arrangements. This bed was big enough for two, and she wanted Helena in it. She wanted to see if they could make it detach from the wall. She wanted everything, and that frightened her, after Sam. She had thought, with him, that she had everything. And then he’d pulled the rug out from underneath her. Myka lay down and pulled the duvet up around her, huddling inside like it was a cocoon, in some sort of attempt to stop her hands from reaching out for Helena. Since Colorado things had been truly different between them, and she now had a traitorous tendril of hope wrapping itself slowly around her heart. It was terrifying. It was a long, long time before she was able to sleep.

 

***

 

Myka felt like she’d blinked and all of a sudden it was the weekend of her retreat with her co-workers – and Helena. She’d been working so hard that even Artie had told her to go home on a few occasions. Sally Stukowski had taken to giving her evil looks as she left the office, clearly too tired to continue, while Myka was hopped up on caffeine and the idea of being financially secure for the first time in her life.

 

She arrived home on the afternoon she and Helena were supposed to go to the retreat together, but Helena wasn’t there. There was no note, and Myka was confused and disappointed. She had really believed that Helena was in this with her. Helena had promised to be at the retreat and to make a good impression. She sighed as she packed and waited for the car to arrive.

 

The resort was beautiful. The Catskill mountains were there, right up close, and the accommodation was made up of luxurious log cabins. Myka was shown to hers by a courteous young man, but there was no sign that anyone else had been to the cabin before her. So Helena really had deserted her. Myka was surprised at the strength of the pain that she felt at the realisation. She had been holding out hope, stupidly, that Helena had really changed, that there was enough between them now that they might be able to make this marriage a real thing instead of a stupid fuck up they’d made while drunk off their asses in Vegas. It appeared that her hope had been idiotic. Why would anyone choose her, anyway? She was boring and uptight and she was always the second fucking choice. Tears stung at her eyes and she wiped them away angrily.

 

She had to re-do her make-up before getting dressed for the semi-formal afternoon reception. She had bought, on a whim, months ago, a deep blue silk dress with matching heels that added more than 3 inches to her height, in the hope that Sam would be there to accompany her, that she could show him off. And now she was here alone. She took a deep breath, checking herself out in the mirror to make sure her hair wasn’t too wild and her boobs weren’t falling out, before making her way out to the gardens to meet with Artie and the rest of the company.

 

As she turned the corner of the main building, following a helpful staff member’s directions, she heard a familiar voice. It couldn’t be. There was Artie’s voice, a familiar rumble, and then a higher, but rich, beautiful…

 

Myka passed a few people she vaguely knew, all of whom were standing around, seemingly listening to Artie talk to someone else. A someone who Myka knew well. Helena was sitting at a table with the financial director, James MacPherson, Deb Stanley, the company’s lead counsel, and other partners – Theodora Stanton, Adwin Kosan, to name but a few – and they were all laughing uproariously at something she’d just said to Artie.

 

“You would need to lose a few pounds, Mr Nielsen, if you wanted to beat me at any game other than chess,” Helena was saying, and Myka’s cheeks reddened as she realised that her wife was _insulting_ Artie. She was calling him fat. Helena was wearing a formal suit with the bow tie undone, coupled with black heeled boots that just looked – wow. And Artie was laughing. _Laughing._

 

“We’ll see, young lady, when I get you on the golf course. I’ve played with the Vice President of the US,” Artie said, but his words were teasing.

 

“Are you the one he shot, because he mistook you for some sort of animal?” Helena asked, coolly, and Artie reddened.

 

_“Shit, shit, shit,”_ was repeating in Myka’s head, over and over. Helena was going to get her fired.

 

“I know people,” Artie said, darkly. “I could have you disappeared, you know.”

 

“Surely I could just hide from them in that enormous shadow you cast?” Helena asked, and Artie exploded into laughter, the rest of the table joining in. It was at that moment that Helena saw Myka, and she stood, immediately, pulling Myka close to her and kissing her soundly.

 

“I have missed you, darling,” she said, and Myka reddened. She had no clue what was going on.

 

“You know Mr Kosan, of course,” Helena said, and Myka nodded, bemused.

 

“I told you, Helena, you must call me Adwin,” Mr Kosan said, with a rare smile crossing his face. Helena smiled back at him and Myka stared at her.

 

“Of course. Adwin. And Deb, and Ted, and James. You all know my beautiful wife Myka, and are aware, I’m sure, of what an asset you have in her,” Helena said, and to Myka’s surprise, all four of them smiled at her, nodding. From the corner of her eye, Myka saw Sally Stukowski and her husband, Marcus Diamond, scowling. Myka smiled. Anything that pissed Sally off was great, in her book, even if Myka didn’t have the slightest clue what was happening.

 

“Myka, you never told me your wife was a Cruella DeVille lookalike,” Artie said, conversationally. Myka stared between him and Helena, mouth agape.

 

“Indeed. And you never told me your boss was a small rotund ape creature with a ferocious pair of eyebrows,” Helena said, tilting her head slightly as she looked at Artie with her eyes narrowed. Once again, he let out a bark of laughter that was echoed by everyone around him. Myka sat down, perplexed, in the chair that Artie pulled out for her, and after several more glasses of champagne was laughing so much at their jokes that champagne came out of her nose.

 

“Ladies and gentleman, my beautiful wife!” Helena said, with a flourish, as champagne spurted from Myka’s nose in a fountain. It was some time before the laughter died down enough for them to continue their conversation.

 

“I can’t believe he called you an evil British harpy,” Myka said, later, when they were changing for dinner.

 

“He called me much worse names before you arrived. I think he was testing me,” Helena said, with a smile. Myka was more than a little woozy after all the champagne they’d had that afternoon, and Helena was looking good enough to eat, in a red dress with her hair loose around her shoulders – she was spectacular.

 

“I can’t believe you got him on side by insulting him,” Myka said, shaking her head and then regretting it slightly as the room spun around her.

 

“Different strokes for different folks, that’s the saying, isn’t it?” Helena said, lifting her foot to put her shoes on. She was wearing heels again, but was a little shorter, still, than Myka. Myka took a step closer to her and put her arms around Helena’s neck.

 

“Thank you for doing this,” she said, and Helena looked her in the eye, puzzled.

 

“I promised you I would.”

 

“I know you did, but then you weren’t home when I got back from work this afternoon, and we said we were going together, and… I was worried that you’d decided not to come,” Myka confessed, biting her lip.

 

“I left you a voicemail, Myka. Your boss called early this morning and asked me to come out and meet everyone, and I thought that would be better for your prospects – if I didn’t bugger the whole thing up, of course. Which it appears I didn’t,” Helena said, with a slight frown.

 

“I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Myka said, and Helena laughed.

 

“I’ve done nothing but give you reasons to doubt me, darling. I don’t blame you in the least.”

 

“You have earned my trust, Helena,” Myka said, and her eyes were steady on Helena’s. Helena leaned forward and kissed her, long and lingering, and when they parted it was reluctantly.

 

Dinner was wonderful, as was to be expected when one worked for a major financial firm. Myka was nervous, however, and ate only a little. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, especially every time she looked at Helena. The woman was beautiful, commanding the attention of everyone around. Myka was basking in the attention from the firm’s major movers and shakers.

 

“So, Myka. Where did you and Helena meet?” Theodora ‘Ted’ Stanton asked. She was clearly in her cups, her nose red and her eyes unfocused.

 

“If I may, darling?” Helena asked, and she spun, once again, the same story she’d told to her family about them meeting in Las Vegas and how they’d fallen in love and, unwilling to be parted afterwards, had married on a whim. “Not that we’ve regretted that whim for one moment since,” Helena said, interlinking her fingers with Myka’s and kissing her knuckles one by one. There was a general “Aw,” around the table, and Myka blushed at all the attention.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Artie said, sitting back with his hands on his ample belly, his tone accusatory.

 

“I think I can answer that part, too,” Helena said, softly. “Myka got out of a relationship not long before we met and she didn’t want to announce our relationship until she was sure of me. I certainly don’t blame her; her ex treated her horribly.”

 

Artie looked at her over the rim of his glasses for a moment.

 

“In that case, I understand. But I want an invite to the christening of your first child. I won’t take no for an answer!” he boomed, and he then proposed a toast to Helena and Myka, causing Myka’s face to heat to what she was sure were close to solar temperatures.

 

When dinner was done, a band began to play, and Artie insisted that they all dance. It was fun, and Myka quickly became so drunk that she could barely tell who she was dancing with. Every single one of the partners seemed to want to dance with her and Helena, and all of them had some words of wisdom from their own marriages. Myka nodded solemnly at each, promising to take them seriously, all the while wondering if she’d remember any of it in the morning. Helena took pity on her after a while and led her back to their room, several wolf-whistles and encouraging comments being shouted at them by their well-meaning colleagues as they departed.

 

“Well, that went well, I thought,” Helena said, brightly, as she and Myka changed (backs turned, of course) and climbed into bed.

 

“Are you kidding?” Myka said, slurring her words slightly. “That was incredible. Artie loves you. All of them do – MacPherson, Deb Stanley, Ted, and that weird-looking dude, Hugo? They all love you and were giving me advice on how to keep you. I can’t even believe it. They’ve never looked at me, not one of them, not once,” she said, and she was astonished and slightly pissed, too. Wasn’t she interesting enough on her own? Or did Helena bring something out in her?

 

“You are enough, Myka. It’s just that sometimes you… you hide your light. I see you,” Helena said, and she was insistent. “I see you. You are wonderful, hard-working, talented, beautiful, dedicated. You just need to show them. And that’s what I want to help you do, here. This weekend is for you.”

 

Myka kissed her, and the kiss was desperate and messy and she was practically climbing Helena, almost straddling her, when Helena placed a hand on her chest and pushed her away slightly. Myka stared at her, chest heaving, panting against Helena’s mouth.

 

“Not now, darling. Not when you’re drunk. Please. I want you so fiercely, so truly, but I want you to be conscious, at least, for the main event,” Helena said, and her words were so gentle, so sincere, that Myka couldn’t even find it in herself to be offended or hurt or rejected. She could feel that Helena meant what she said, and that meant the whole world.

 

“Thank you,” was all she said, before lying down, wrapping one arm around Helena and falling asleep almost instantly with her head pressed to Helena’s shoulder.

 

The next morning Myka’s alarm woke her, an incessant, nagging needle of pain in her ears. She pulled her pillow over her head, trying to block it out, but it wouldn’t stop.

 

“Come on, darling. Time to get ready for our hike,” Helena said, pulling away her pillow. Myka pouted at her. “Oh dear. Feeling the worse for wear, my love?” Helena asked, with mock sympathy. Myka narrowed her eyes.

 

“This is your fault.”

 

“How is it my fault that you decided to drink so much, Myka Bering? I am your wife, not your sober companion,” Helena said, with a grin, crossing the hotel room to pull the curtains across, effectively blinding Myka for the next several minutes. She groaned and pulled herself out of bed, walking into the bathroom in a half-daze before realising that Helena was already in the shower, her ass pressed against the glass, her figure half-shrouded with steam and condensation on the glass of the shower cubicle. Myka yelped, backing out quickly, but Helena had already seen her and had shot her a look of pure challenge, one that Myka wanted to take her up on desperately, but not while she was hungover. She wanted it to be right, to feel like the right decision, not just some drunken mistake like their first time.

 

They had a quiet breakfast with a rather chastened-looking roomful of Myka’s colleagues and their partners. Even Artie was as grumpy as a mother bear defending her cubs, not even bothering to reply when Helena poked him and asked loudly if someone had lost an overfed hobbit.

 

The hike was up into the Catskills, on one of the less challenging trails, allegedly, but 15 minutes into the trek Myka was sweating profusely, as were most of the other staff. Helena looked fresh, annoyingly, her hair in a ponytail, which was bouncing as she walked alongside Deb and Ted, in an intense conversation about something. Myka was walking beside Artie, who was huffing like a steam train.

 

“She’s a very interesting woman, your wife,” Artie said, eventually, in between deep breaths.

 

“I think so,” Myka said, a small smile pulling at her lips. She was proud of Helena; proud of the growing up she’d done recently, the way she’d turned herself around.

 

“She’s a writer, she said, and she is working on some inventions with a friend. So you’re keeping her, essentially?” he asked, adjusting his glasses on his sweaty nose. Myka was glad she’d worn her contacts. Glasses were hell when you were sweaty.

 

“I am, I guess. But only for now. She works so hard, Artie, and she looks after me, feeding me, making sure my clothes are laundered and she even gets up most mornings now to make me breakfast,” Myka said, almost defensively.

 

“I don’t doubt that you love her, Myka. And she obviously cares for you. Just be careful. I’d hate to see you hurt,” Artie said, with a shrug. Myka looked at him uncertainly before turning her attention back to the trail. She sped up after a while, leaving Artie behind with a wave, and she and Helena walked arm in arm to the summit, sitting together to enjoy a picnic provided by the staff at the resort. It was a beautiful day. They chatted to everyone as they descended, slipping and sliding in some places and holding each other up, laughing. By the end of the hike Myka felt she knew her colleagues better than she had in all of her years at the firm, all because of Helena.

 

Dinner was formal, the last big meal together before they returned home the next afternoon. It was delicious again, and Myka and Helena stayed close, holding hands when possible, Myka tracing Helena’s skin the whole time, feeling suddenly insecure because of Artie’s words. What did he see in Helena that she didn’t? She watched Helena chat to Mr Kosan, thoroughly charming him, her lips curled in that generous, beautiful smile that Myka loved. Helena caught her staring and raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“Everything okay, darling?” she asked, quietly, and Myka just nodded, taking a sip from her wine. She was being careful with what she drank, to avoid another hangover.

 

A little later, the dancing was about to begin, but Artie decided to make an announcement, first.

 

“We’re giving out an award, this evening. Best newcomer, which I’m giving to the funniest, most evil broom-riding harpy I’ve come across in many years. Myka Bering surprised me with her secret marriage, and now I see why. She’s afraid one of us will steal her. Helena Wells, ladies and gentlemen!”

 

Helena was called up to the small dais where the band was waiting. She smiled at everyone while she read the dedication on the award.

 

“Thank you, everyone,” she said, quietly, into the microphone. “It’s been such a pleasure getting to know you all this weekend. Some of you might not know that Myka and I didn’t know each other for very long when we got married.”

 

Myka’s heart almost stopped. Was Helena about to out their marriage, their idiocy, in front of all of her colleagues? The gambling, the drinking, the getting married while completely smashed?

 

Helena sought her out in the crowd, smiling at her widely, beautifully.

 

“As a consequence, we never got to have our first dance. I wonder if you’ll indulge us, everyone, and give us that chance tonight?” Helena asked, quietly, and there was a round of applause and cheers. Helena leaned over to speak to the singer, who smiled and passed the message on. Helena walked over to Myka and took her hand, kissing it.

 

“May I have this dance, Myka?” she asked, and Myka gaped, unable to speak. Helena just pulled her towards the dancefloor, laughing, and pulling Myka to her. They were almost eye-to-eye, swaying slowly to the music, Myka’s arms around Helena’s waist, and Helena’s around Myka’s neck. The band was playing “The way you look tonight.”

 

“You scared me,” Myka managed, eventually. “I thought you were going to tell them all.”

 

“Tell them what?” Helena asked gently. “That you changed my life? That you have been nothing but generous and loving to me and you have turned my life on its head?”

 

Myka blushed, and Helena kissed her on the cheek. A moment later there was a chorus of tinkling, and as they turned and swayed, Myka saw that her colleagues were standing around, tapping their spoons on their glasses.

 

“I believe that means that they wish us to kiss, darling,” Helena said, and her voice was husky. Myka stared at her.

 

“In front of all these people? I…”

 

Helena leaned in, and Myka couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward, too. Their kiss was almost chaste, but they were still breathless when they stopped, and the room was full of cheering and whistling people. Myka was red and felt ready to faint, but Helena held her, kissing her cheek and holding her close as they carried on swaying, the rest of the room joining them on the dance floor.

 

The rest of the night passed in a haze for Myka. She only had eyes for Helena, and they danced almost the whole night, never letting go of one another. They eventually went to bed, and this time Myka was sober and determined and Helena wasn’t resisting.

 

They had made love several times and were almost asleep when Helena pulled the hair back from Myka’s ear, leaning forward to whisper.

 

“I’m in love with you, Myka Bering.”

 

Myka stared at her, wide-eyed, and Helena laughed nervously.

 

“I just thought you should know.”

 

Myka kissed her, and she knew that she was repeating it, later, when they were entwined and gasping, over and over, breathing it into Helena’s ear. “I love you… I love you…”

 

The next morning when Myka woke, Helena was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena screws up royally, the couple return to Vegas, and the outcome is decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second-to-last chapter. I'm sorry it sort of ends on a cliffhanger, but I am half-way through the next one and wanted to get this one out in the meantime. And don't be too hard on Helena; fear is a powerful motivator.

* * *

 

Myka said her goodbyes to her colleagues early, making vague excuses as to Helena’s whereabouts, before taking her car back to the city alone, as she’d arrived. She tried Helena several times on the journey but her calls just went through to voicemail. She didn’t know what to think. They had… they had made love, this time, not just stupid drunk sex, and they both said the words. And now Helena was gone without a note or a word and Myka’s unease grew and grew until she reached their apartment. She rushed inside to find that Helena wasn’t there – it wasn’t as if there were many places to hide. She’d clearly been at the apartment – her small travel case, which she’d used for the weekend away, was propped up near the door, still full. So where was she? Myka was left to wonder, because texts to Abigail and Claudia were not returned and neither Pete nor Leena had heard anything from their respective lady friends or from Helena. Charles hadn’t heard a thing and apologised profusely when Myka called.

 

“It’s been a while since she’s done something stupid, Myka. Perhaps she’s just gone out to get drunk with those two reprobate friends of hers?”

 

Myka couldn’t think of anything else to do, so she went running and exhausted herself so much that it was all she could do to pull down the bed and climb in after she’d showered.

 

There was no sign of Helena the following day, either, so Myka made her way to work as normal, for want of anything better to do. When she approached the door to her building, someone stepped in front of her and she was annoyed and then confused when she realised who it was.

 

“Sam? What do you want?” she asked, somewhat ungraciously. He was dressed as he always was for the office, come rain or shine – expensive suit in sober colours matched with an expensive wool coat and shiny shoes.

 

“Myka,” he said, with a knowing smile, and she felt an unaccountable urge to punch him.

 

“Sam,” she replied, one eyebrow up. What the hell did he want?

 

“I think we both know why I’m here,” he said, and she shook her head.

 

“I think we don’t,” she replied, and he smiled patronisingly.

 

“It’s all right, Myka. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Your friend told me. I know that I was… hasty, in deciding that we shouldn’t be together. You have stood by me for so many years. So I’m here, to tell you, that you _are_ good enough,” he said, sincerely. To her horror, he sank to one knee on the sidewalk, a ring in his hand. She looked at it incredulously, and then more closely.

 

“Is that – is that the engagement ring you bought the first time you proposed?” she asked, and the unease she’d been feeling since Helena disappeared was replaced with a cold, splintering feeling in her chest.

 

“It is. Your friend, she told me how you were feeling, and that I should take you back. She’s right, Myka. You _are_ good enough for me. We can do this, you and I. We can make this work. I can accept your faults, and you can give up your job once I get partner, and we’ll have a family then,” he continued, but Myka had tuned out. Her _friend_. Her friend who gave him the engagement ring. The engagement ring that had been in Myka’s purse.

 

“Sorry, Sam. I have to go,” she said, plucking the ring from his hand and heading into work. She had something she needed to do here, first, and then she needed to see her lawyer. Tomorrow was the day they were going back to Vegas for their six-month hearing, and she was determined to be ready.

 

***

Helena arrived at the courtroom early, hoping to catch Myka before they started speaking to the judge. She had made a colossal, monumental mistake. She had fallen in love with Myka, but that wasn’t the mistake. It was what she had done after she realised she loved Myka that was the mistake. She had run, like the coward she was, because she wasn’t good enough.  She couldn’t be good enough for someone like Myka, so she found Sam and she gave him back his stupid engagement ring and she told him that Myka still loved him. Even though Myka had told Helena only the night before that she was in love with her, she told Sam Martino that Myka was in love with him, and she ran away like a scared child, hiding at Abigail’s until it was far too late to fix any of it. She had to fix it now, before the hearing. Surely Myka had to appear before the judge arrived?

 

The court clerk announced their case number and, just as the judge looked up, Myka walked in. She was dressed up in her usual professional office garb, her hair tied back and her glasses on. She looked tired and sad. She didn’t look at Helena, just sat next to her lawyer.

 

“I see you two ladies are back. So how did things go? I believe Mrs Frederic is here to give her report,” the judge said, gesturing to the back of the courtroom for the lady herself to appear on the stand.

 

Mrs Frederic sat down, her ever-present purse on her lap, and she gave a brief but glowing report of their progress.

 

“Believe it or not, these two ladies are actually a wonderful match. Helena allows Myka to relax and enjoy life, and Myka encourages Helena to take life and herself more seriously. You can see that Helena – Ms Wells – has started her own company with a friend, designing and building components for a variety of manufacturers, and she has entered her writing into a number of competitions, publishing several pieces. Myka – Ms Bering – is in line for a partnership in her firm, largely because of her hard work and, I believe, the encouragement and support provided by Ms Wells during the last six months. To put it simply, they work as a couple, despite all appearances to the contrary.”

 

“Thank you, Mrs Frederic,” the judge said, and he looked from one side of the courtroom to the other, appraisingly. “Now, how do you wish to proceed? Are we splitting this money and ending this marriage, or awarding it to both of you as a couple?” he asked, and Myka leaned over to speak into her lawyer’s ear. The woman, who Helena had never seen before, appeared to be arguing with Myka, but Myka was clearly not to be moved.

 

“Your honour, my client wishes to be granted a divorce, and has dropped any claim to the money she won while she was last here in Las Vegas.”

 

The judge looked at Myka, confused.

 

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Ms Bering?” he asked, and she nodded firmly. The judge nodded reluctantly, and bashed his gavel loudly, granting the divorce. Myka stood and, standing in front of Helena silently, took off her wedding ring and placed it on the table in front of Helena along with another, much more expensive ring. Her engagement ring. Helena winced, and couldn’t meet Myka’s eyes. When she looked up, Myka was gone.

 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Helena said, and Claudia, who was sitting next to her, looked at her sympathetically.

 

“I’m sorry, HG. At least she gave you the money, though, right?” she asked, and Helena nodded mechanically. Yes, she had the money. But now she’d give it all away to have a chance to make this up to Myka.

 

The thought of giving the money up sparked an idea, a way she might be able to resolve this, and she hoped that Myka might still be at their apartment when she got back to New York, so she could explain.

 

One flight and a cab ride later, Helena found that her hopes were unfounded. Myka had packed up everything, her closet, her books, everything. There was nothing of her left in the spotlessly clean apartment, except for a key on the kitchen counter.

 

Helena sank down onto the grubby couch. She had completely fucked it all up. She had finally met someone who understood her, who accepted her but dared her to do better, and she’d fucked it up. Myka was gone, and she might never get a chance to fix this. But she had to try.

 

***

 

Myka left Sam kneeling in her wake, already forgotten. She took the elevator to her floor on instinct, and didn’t even notice when Sally Stukowski tried to trip her up on her way to Artie’s office, a foul look on her face.

 

“Ah, Myka,” Artie said, as she knocked on his door. “The woman of the hour. I’m sorry if Sally was rude to you, it’s just that I told her that I’m giving you the promotion, and she didn’t appreciate it…”

 

“Artie,” Myka said, holding up a hand to stop the flood of words. “I… I quit. I’m sorry. I don’t… I need something different, in my life. This is not for me. Give the promotion to Sally; she really wants it, and she’ll work hard for you. My heart isn’t in this, Artie. I’m sorry.”

 

He looked at her silently for long moments before smiling broadly.

 

“Myka Bering, I always knew you were too good for this job. Go, do whatever makes your heart sing, and make an old man happy,” he said, throwing his arms around her and surprising her intensely.

 

“Thank you, Artie,” she said, and his smile was so wide that she actually, for a moment, felt good about what she was doing. She went to collect her things from her desk and looked around the office one last time, feeling an intense sense of relief about leaving this world behind. She went back to the apartment and, as she sat on the couch, her momentary sense of determination deserted her. She was… she didn’t know what she was. She had made love with Helena, after six months of marriage, and the next day Helena was gone, and she’d done this fucking horrible thing, and now Myka didn’t know what the hell to do. She sent a message to Leena to ask if she and Pete could come help her pack. She wanted to be gone before (if) Helena came back.

 

She was moved out before the end of the day. She vacuumed and cleaned the apartment to within an inch of its life, taking out some of her frustration on the bathroom tiles and stubborn stains in the kitchen. Leena said nothing, watching her carefully while she helped, and Pete lugged her belongings box by box to his car stoically. She stayed at Leena’s that night and cried herself to sleep before taking the first flight to Las Vegas that morning. She waited around the corner from the courthouse until her lawyer texted her to say that their case was up next, and she walked in at the last minute, averting her eyes from Helena, her heart clenching. She’d made up her mind; she wasn’t letting herself be hurt anymore. She had already told her lawyer what she wanted to do, and despite the woman’s protests, was determined to go through with it before taking another flight back home to Colorado. Tracy had already agreed that she could stay for as long as she needed, and she could always help out in her dad’s store if she got bored. She sat through Mrs Frederic’s proclamations that she and Helena were perfect for each other, trying hard not to snort in derision, and after a short argument with her lawyer, stood up and deliberately took off her wedding ring, placing it on the table in front of Helena, followed by her engagement ring. Helena didn’t look at her, so she walked away, leaving Helena behind along with what was left of her heart.

 

***

 

It had taken some manoeuvring, both legal and otherwise, to arrange what she had planned. A way to make it up to Myka. Now it was almost time to see Myka, to fix this, if it were even possible to fix the colossal fuck-up Helena had made of her relationship with Myka. She had travelled to Colorado almost immediately after emptying her belongings from their tiny apartment, making a few stops before checking herself in to a hotel near where Tracy lived. Tracy had closed the door in her face at first, but after Helena explained her plans through the closed door, and confirmed that she wanted and expected nothing in return, Tracy had let her in.

 

“You don’t deserve her,” Tracy said, as she handed Helena a cup of hot tea.

 

“I know,” Helena said simply, her head bowed. “She is far too good for me. I just want to make sure that she has the life she deserves. Once I have done that, I will be on my way.”

 

Tracy looked at her, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

 

“What on earth possessed you to run away? To… I mean, I understand thinking you weren’t good enough for her. Because you’re not,” she said, with a sharp glare. “But _Sam?_ Why would you bring him into it? You know what he did to her. Jesus, Helena.”

 

“I know. I just… he makes good money, despite his obvious faults. He worked hard, and she deserves someone who’ll look after her the way she looks after them.”

 

“She deserves someone who loves her for who she is, Helena. Someone she loves. And that, despite all that’s happened, is you. You fucked up, but you might be able to fix this. She still loves you. If she didn’t, she would have moved on already. But she cries herself to sleep every night, Helena. She’ll be at that place she loves, with the trees and the water and… you know where it is. Go and find her, and fix this. If you’re lucky I won’t have you murdered before your wedding,” Tracy said, and in that moment she was terrifying. Helena could almost believe that she was some sort of shadowy assassin.

 

“Okay,” Helena said, finishing her tea in one draught. “I will tell her what I’ve done, but I’m not going to push myself on her. I believe she deserves a lot better than me,” she said, standing and holding her hand out to Tracy. “Whatever else happens, it’s been a pleasure to have known you, Tracy.”

 

Tracy shook her hand.

 

“Fix this, Helena. Get down on bended knee and fix it.”

 

Helena nodded and left, making her way to the wooded area Myka had shown her the first time she’d visited Colorado. She walked slowly, her body not entirely convinced by her brain’s insistence that they needed to face Myka. Myka, her now ex-wife, who she’d fucked over royally. Myka, who she loved so very deeply.

 

Myka had her back to Helena when she eventually arrived in the little glade with its tinkling water and overhanging greenery. She looked to have been waiting. Helena sat next to her and Myka didn’t look at her, just sitting there in silence. Helena took a deep, shaky breath.

 

“I won’t make you suffer my presence for too long, Myka, I promise,” she began, shifting awkwardly. The rock she was sitting on was not designed for the human bottom. Myka still didn’t look away from the tiny waterfall, her features still.

 

“There is no excuse for what I did. Firstly, for running away after the night we had together,” Helena said, and then stood, because really her arse was hurting and Myka wasn’t looking at her anyway, so she might as well pace and get out some of this nervous energy.

 

“The night we had together… after that wonderful weekend, with your colleagues and your boss – honestly it was the most fun weekend I think I’ve had in a very long time. And I… I have never felt that way before, not about anyone or anything. Have you ever realised, Myka, that there’s something or someone in your life that you love so deeply that you just can’t be without it? Because I realised that as soon as I woke up that morning, when I saw your face.”

 

Helena took another deep breath and scrubbed at her face roughly with the sleeve of her fleece jacket. If there were tears on her face, well, it was her who’d put them there.

 

“So. I realised that… I realised how I felt, and so I did what I am best at. I ran away. Because then it wouldn’t matter. It couldn’t matter, if I… if I lost you. Because I wouldn’t have lost you. I wouldn’t have tried, would I? So it couldn’t be my fault. And I did the unforgivable thing. I took that ring and I gave it to that idiot because I thought you would be better off with someone who could at least take care of you financially. Of course, I should have realised given his past actions that he is so very unworthy of you, Myka Bering. But I did what I did, and I understand that it was entirely unforgivable. So that is _not_ why I am here. I am here because you left the money for me, Myka. And I cannot let that stand. I don’t deserve it. And you deserve…” Helena paused, pinching the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb. “You deserve the world.”

 

She turned back to see that Myka was still sitting in the same position, her curly hair moving a little in the breeze. She was so beautiful. Helena had been married to her, however accidentally, and she’d managed to fuck it up. How could she have done that? It was… it was unthinkable. She bit her lip hard to keep the sob that was welling up in her throat from escaping.

 

“I spoke to a few people and I managed to persuade them that this was the best course of action. Primarily, your Mr Kosan, but obviously also your father and mother. Your parents are actually quite pleased about this turn of events, despite their obvious desire to set me on fire for hurting you. So these are the deeds to the building – Bering and Sons and the apartment above. The business is yours to do with as you wish, as is the apartment, and there is a bank account set up in your name here which holds the remainder of the money, minus necessary expenses only, I swear to you. You shouldn’t feel under any obligation to run the business yourself, your father says, but of course you can discuss that with him whenever you wish. So there it is. I am sorry, Myka, for everything that I did to you. And if it matters at all, I love you. I love you so deeply that it caused me to do the most stupid of things. But that isn’t your fault, it’s mine entirely. I do hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me someday.”

 

Helena walked back to where Myka was perched, placing a large envelope filled with documents and keys on the rock where she had originally sat down when she started her little speech.

 

“Goodbye, Myka,” she said, leaning close to Myka for a moment before losing her courage and backing away. She didn’t deserve to kiss Myka goodbye. She turned and walked away, tears streaming down her face, the last hope trickling away as she realised that Myka really wasn’t coming after her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter - finally. Myka makes a decision, and we take a look at the ladies' lives in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this little fic until the end. I am really sorry for taking so long to get this last part out, but for some reason I was struggling with it. I hope you all enjoyed this terribly plotted, unlikely rom-com thing. Thanks go to the lovely Splendonia for betaing this last chapter for me.

* * *

 

 

Myka was in a daze. She’d heard every word Helena had said – of course she had – but she was numb, her mind filled with confusion and fog. It just didn’t seem real. She turned to pick up the heavy envelope and ripped it open. A ring of keys fell out but so too did something smaller. Something silver. It rolled away and Myka stood up to retrieve it. It was her wedding band. Chosen flippantly, a sign of their ‘love’ when they hadn’t known each other at all. They were strangers who’d fucked, back then, and that was all. But that ring meant something. Silver filigree and green stones. It might have been cheap – Myka was still hazy on the details of that night – but it was beautiful and it was theirs. If the last few weeks had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t getting over Helena Wells anytime soon.

 

_1 week earlier_

“I can’t believe… I just, I thought she was the one, Tracy. She was so loving, that last night, and then when I woke up she was just gone, and I never even got the chance to talk to her, to find out why she did it all,” Myka said, in between huge, gasping sobs. Tracy rubbed her back with one hand while pouring a copious amount of Scotch into what had begun as a mug of comforting ginger tea.

 

“I know, sis. I know. She loved you. She loves you, I really believe that. I could tell when she was here that she really loved you. I don’t know what made her do any of this, Myka, but I am sure about that. She loves you.”

 

“Why are you defending her?” Myka asked, glaring at Tracy accusatorily through red-rimmed eyes.

 

“I’m not defending her, Myka,” she said, gently. “What she did was horrible. Awful, nasty, shitty. Choose your adjective. But I still believe that she loves you. That’s not defending her, it’s just making an observation.”

 

“Yeah, well, you know what you can do with that observation,” Myka said sourly, taking a large gulp of the whiskey/tea combination and wincing as it burned its way down her oesophagus.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Tracy said wryly. “But that doesn’t change things. She loves you. She fucked up royally, but she loves you. Maybe one day we’ll find out what was going on in her head when she decided to do this.”

 

Myka sniffed, wiping her nose distractedly on her sleeve. Tracy looked at the trail of snot on her sleeve in distaste, shaking her head.

 

“Look. Whatever caused it, she’s not here, now, and you have a life to live, sis. Why don’t you go work at the store for a while, take your mind off things. If you go running any more than you already are you’re going to fade away to nothing,” Tracy suggested gently.

 

So Myka went to work in the bookstore, covering for her father who suddenly had meeting after meeting that couldn’t be held after working hours and also, for some reason, couldn’t be discussed with her. She didn’t mind, particularly. She enjoyed the work and she found that things were a lot smoother without her father fussing around in the background, muttering about how she was somehow putting books back in the wrong place, as if she couldn’t work out how the alphabet worked. She even let herself dream about running the place herself, using that corner furthest from the door for story time, getting authors to come in for readings and signings, maybe even installing a coffee machine because who in their right mind didn’t want to enjoy a coffee while reading a new book? She’d dreamed of it, and of Helena’s melodious voice reading in the background to a crowd of pre-schoolers. She pushed that thought away when she remembered to, but part of her didn’t want to let the fantasy go.

 

And now she was listening as Helena’s footsteps faded, disappearing after she had basically handed Myka everything she’d ever wanted. Financial security, a bookstore of her own, a future, a place to call home. And Helena was walking away, because of what she’d done. And Myka should let her, shouldn’t she? Because after what Helena had done, the breach of trust, the way she’d hurt Myka repeatedly… Myka would be stupid to go after her. Even though she had just said that she still loved Myka. Even though Myka still loved her.

 

It was an eternity before Myka’s foggy mind cleared enough for her to actually move. The first thing she did was to put the ring back on her left ring finger. She didn’t think about the implications of that before she picked up the keys and paperwork, stuffing them back into the envelope. She stood quickly and turned, her long legs eating up the distance between her and Helena. The other woman hadn’t made it very far. She was walking slowly, her feet kicking up little puffs of dust here and there as if to advertise their reluctance to go any further.

 

Myka touched Helena’s arm, saying nothing at first, breathing heavily from her sprint.

 

“Don’t… don’t go. Please. Can we talk?” Myka managed, finally. Helena nodded mutely. “Will you come back to Tracy’s with me?” Helena nodded again, and Myka felt something warm in her. The possibility of something.

 

When they arrived at Tracy’s house, Tracy looked at them cautiously before excusing herself, muttering something that Myka didn’t quite catch. She disappeared, anyway, so Myka filled up the kettle and made some tea, to give herself something to do and some time to think. She made two cups of tea the way Helena had taught her, setting them down on the table and sitting opposite Helena, her hands wrapped around her mug. Helena sat in silence, her eyes on her tea.

 

“So. You bought the bookstore,” Myka said, inanely.

 

“I did,” Helena confirmed, nodding her head but still not looking up.

 

“Why did you do that?” Myka asked, gently. Helena looked up, cautiously.

 

“I… you shouldn’t have left that money to me. I don’t deserve it, Myka. What I’ve done to you… the things you’d already forgiven me for, for Christ’s sake! And now this? I just… I couldn’t let it stand,” Helena said, trailing off and looking away.

 

“But you… you stayed married to me for six months, Helena, for the express purpose of getting that money. Or half of it, at least. So what would make you give that up?” Myka asked, gently but insistently.

 

“ _I_ made me give that up. I didn’t deserve it, Myka. I fucked it all up and it wasn’t fair to you. How can you even ask me that?” Helena demanded.

 

“I can ask it because you put up with living with me for six months, with weekly therapy appointments, with meeting my family and friends, with my colleagues, just to give up right at the last minute because of what? An attack of conscience? You had exactly what you wanted. A divorce and all the money, all to yourself. So why not just take off with the money and forget me?” Myka asked, spreading her hands questioningly.

 

“I… yes. It was an attack of conscience, I suppose. I felt bad about everything that I did to you, and I needed to fix it. So that’s what I did,” Helena said, frowning.

 

“So what, you just gave up? Hardly the behaviour of someone like you, Helena. I thought you just cared about money and yourself,” Myka said, a small smile growing on her face.

 

“I do. I did. That’s how we got here, Myka. And you deserve better than that. You deserve someone…”

 

“… who’ll give up literally all of the money they have in the world to see my future secured? Someone who will put me first, even if it means they are left without a thing?” Myka interrupted, one eyebrow up.

 

“Well, yes,” Helena said, confused.

 

“So I deserve someone like you?” Myka asked.

 

“No,” Helena said stubbornly. “You deserve much better than me. Regardless of my recent actions, I’ve proven I can’t be trusted, Myka. I messed everything up, repeatedly, hurt you and left you when you needed me most. You deserve much better. It was the least I could do to make sure you got the money. It was yours in the first place. I should never have insisted on you staying married to me,” Helena said, standing up and gesticulating wildly.

 

“So I deserve someone who is like you, but not you because you don’t deserve me?” Myka asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

 

“Exactly,” Helena said weakly, sinking back into her chair.

 

“And what if I want you? What if I want to try, to see if we can make a relationship from this mess?” Myka asked, and Helena looked up at her as if she were entirely insane.

 

“Myka, are you… how can you even think that? I… I hurt you. I broke your heart,” Helena said.

 

“Yes. You did. But a broken heart eventually mends, especially when the person who did it comes back into your life and makes a genuine apology and tells you that they love you,” Myka said calmly.

 

“Myka, don’t you see that I don’t deserve you?” Helena said, her eyes wide.

 

“I do. Of course I do. I’ve cried every day since I saw you last, Helena Wells. I’ve never cried over anyone the way I’ve cried over you. But I still love you. And if you still love me, maybe we can have a chance, to do this properly, this time,” Myka said.

 

Helena was opening her mouth to protest when Tracy shouted from the other room.

 

“Would you just kiss her already, you fucking idiot?!”

 

Myka raised a challenging eyebrow, and Helena stood up and approached her cautiously. She looked at the ring on Myka’s finger and, sinking to one knee, she took Myka’s hand in hers.

 

“Fine, then. Myka Bering? Will you consider the possibility of re-marrying me, assuming that I don’t screw things up unforgivably in the meantime?” Helena asked, removing the ring from Myka’s ring finger and pausing, looking up at Myka with her heart in her eyes.

 

“Yes, I will,” Myka said, with a wry smile, “assuming you don’t screw things up in the meantime.”

 

Helena placed the ring back on Myka’s finger carefully before leaning upwards. Myka met her halfway, kissing her gently.

 

“Finally,” Tracy said, from the room next door, where she’d clearly been listening. Myka chuckled.

 

“Are we really going to do this?” Helena asked, in a tone full of wonder.

 

“We are,” Myka said, running her hand through Helena’s hair gently. “We are. And this time we’re going to do it right, not Mrs Bering-Wells. Okay?”

 

“Yes,” Helena said, fervently, and then Myka kissed her, much less gently, coinciding with Tracy’s return and then immediate retreat from the room, muttering about brain bleach and lesbian activity.

 

_3 months later_

 

Myka’s hair was wild. She’d tried to tie it back that morning rather than wrestling it into submission but it was escaping from the hair tie in small clouds of puffy curls. She smiled at the young man who’d just bought the entire Wheel of Time series after having it enthusiastically recommended by another customer. She bagged up the books carefully and handed him the heavy bags, thanking him for his custom. When the sale was finished, she put a sign on the counter saying “Story time. Back in 15 minutes for purchases.”

 

This had quickly become her favourite time of day. It was Saturday, too, and that meant a huge crowd of kids. This week’s selection was the first book of “A Series of Unfortunate Events”, and Myka was really looking forward to it.

 

She walked to the back corner of the bookshop, propping herself up in the window seat that was her perch during story time. She sat cross-legged, smiling as Helena settled herself in the small rocking-chair they’d found in a local antique store before the revamped Bering & Sons bookstore reopened.

 

“Good morning, everyone,” Helena said, smiling around at the small crowd, mostly pre-schoolers and their parents. Word had spread quickly of this little event and it had increased their business slowly but steadily.

 

Helena started to read, exaggerating her accent a little as she described the various misfortunes of the Baudelaire children. Myka suppressed a shiver at the depth of her rich voice. The last few months had been a revelation. Helena had worked so, so hard at getting the bookstore ready, staying up til midnight some nights to paint and remodel the store. She had been looking after Myka too, in a way that Myka never knew she wanted.

 

Since that day when Helena had handed Myka the keys to her new life, Helena was a changed woman. She’d become the person Myka had glimpsed during their first six months together, a caring, sweet and focused partner who observed and took care of Myka’s needs almost before she herself knew they existed. They were still divorced. The bookstore and various other complications – like Helena moving permanently to Colorado, them having to visit New York to say goodbye to their friends – had cut into their time and they’d decided that it was for the best, anyway. They might as well take it slow, they decided, while working on the bookstore and starting their new life together. One aspect of their life that they hadn’t taken slow was the physical aspect, however. They’d waited long enough, or so Myka told Helena that first night, still in Tracy’s house. Helena had wanted to be respectful, to wait until Myka trusted her again. But Myka wasn’t to be deterred, and Helena wasn’t _that_ noble.

 

Since then, things had been spectacular. Myka had never been happy, not like this. Not with someone who _saw_ her the way Helena did. Someone who paid attention, who made sure that Myka had what she needed without her ever having to ask. It was a little terrifying, because now that she had it, she wasn’t sure how she would live without it. And she didn’t entirely believe that Helena wasn’t going to take off the next time she freaked out about something. Even being married to Myka hadn’t deterred her from running.

 

It was only a small part of Myka that worried about that, however. Because the way Helena looked at her – it was awe, it was love, it was determination. Helena wanted to be here and she wanted to prove that she was staying.

 

Myka tuned back in to hear the kids protesting the end of the reading. Helena was holding her hands up, laughing.

 

“Aww, Miss Helena, please read some more?”

 

That was a tiny child who could have been Myka and Helena’s biological child, if such a thing were possible. And Helena was helpless against the high, piping voice and the green eyes and black hair.

 

“Okay, okay,” she said, smiling. “One more chapter.”

 

And then she smiled at Myka, and Myka’s heart stopped for a moment. It happened every day at this time, when Helena looked at her like _that._ Like she wanted to devour her, to worship her. It was hard to resist grabbing her and dragging her into the stockroom. But it would have to wait, because there were children and their parents waiting expectedly for the next unfortunate event.

 

Later that day, when the shop was empty and the closed sign on the door, Myka did indeed drag Helena into the stockroom and it turned out that she was right. Helena had wanted to devour her, and she did so right there, with Myka propped on top of the desk she used for doing the accounts. Thankfully no-one was around to hear the noises Myka made, because she would never have been able to look another human in the eye after that.

 

“I love you, not-Mrs Bering,” she said to Helena, a little later when they were curled up together on the couch in what had been her parents’ apartment.

 

“I love you, not-Mrs Wells,” Helena said, her smile wide and wicked.

 

***

 

It was Myka and Helena’s wedding day. A real, planned wedding this time, where the participants were (for the most part) sober. There were a lot of people attending; more than either woman had expected. Almost half of the partners from Myka’s old firm were there, including her old boss Artie. Helena’s parents, Myka’s parents, their siblings, and all of their friends had made the trip to the clearing in the woods where they’d reconciled. The bookstore was closed for the first time in the year since they’d opened it together, and a fair number of their more regular customers were also there.

 

They’d already made it through the vows and they were almost at the exchanging of rings and kisses. Helena was wearing an extremely sharp white suit and Myka was in a pale blue silk dress, with flowers in her hair.

 

“You sure about this, not Mrs Bering?” she whispered, during a pause in the ceremony.

 

“More sure than I’ve ever been,” Helena assured her, her eyes clear and her smile wide.

 

Myka smiled back, her chest filling with warmth. This was what it was supposed to be like. This is what it had been like since Helena came back to her. She’d never felt so happy or so in love. It was ridiculous. Tracy was constantly mocking her for the stupid grin she habitually sported whenever Helena was in view.

 

She turned her attention back to the ceremony just in time to say “I do.” She slipped the ring onto Helena’s finger – the same ring they’d used the first time – and accepted the ring Helena slipped onto hers. They kissed to the sound of cheers and wolf-whistles, smiling and leaning their foreheads together.

 

“Mrs Wells,” Helena said, holding out a hand for Myka to take.

 

“Mrs Bering,” Myka said, taking Helena’s hand and turning to face their wedding guests to general applause.

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur – she didn’t lay eyes – or hands – on Helena for the majority of the time, since one or other of them was always involved in a well-meaning conversation with a guest. But by the end of the day she wanted nothing more than to slip away into Helena’s arms. She was stymied once again, however, by the surprise introduction of their wedding video by their friends. Their _first_ wedding video. The drunken one.

 

Claudia Donovan, of course, was the ringleader of this little event, but all of their friends and even Charles Wells was involved, she found out later. He’d written the voiceover, putting on his best David Attenborough voice to describe the wedding as if it were a wildlife show.  

 

“Ladies and gentlemen. This video is not safe for work, so any little ones attending this shindig should leave now,” Claudia announced with a grin.

 

“Oh God,” Myka said, putting her head in her hands. Helena only grinned, however. She was utterly shameless.

 

The video was cut together from the wedding chapel’s own footage and some that Claudia herself had shot, apparently. Because Pete and Abigail certainly weren’t videoing the proceedings. Nor were they paying any attention to the proceedings, because Pete appeared to be trying to eat Abigail’s face from varying angles. For some reason he had a tie wrapped around his head, despite the fact that he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and not a suit. Abigail was climbing Pete like a tree and at one point licked his face as if she were a cat and he was the cream. It was all extremely disconcerting, as were the breaks in Claudia’s footage where she and Leena were making out like wildcats in heat. Helena and Myka displayed a little more decorum, macking on each other only a few times during the ceremony, in between declarations of how much they loved each other (occasionally calling each other by the wrong name).

 

The crowd were in hysterics as Myka and Helena, eyes vacant and makeup running, stumbled over their words and just about managed to get through the ceremony. Myka shook her head. There was no way Tracy was ever, ever going to let any of this go. Myka put her head in her hands again in despair.

 

The wedding video ended with all three couples making out as Pete and Abigail dry-humped before falling off the pew in the wedding chapel.

 

“Wow. Well,” Claudia said, spreading her hands, her embarrassment clear. “Despite the footage causing me some serious embarrassment, I think we can all agree that it was worth it to see the two lovebirds getting married the first time around. And now, for a bonus, we have a short video presentation, courtesy of myself, Abigail and Pete. Leena would like to be left out of this part entirely, just so you know.”

 

“I would have preferred to be left out of the last part too!” Leena shouted, and everyone chuckled. Anyone who knew Leena knew that her behaviour that night was very unusual – Leena was a deeply private person. But there had been so, so much alcohol. Myka groaned again quietly. Her parents had seen that video. _Helena’s_ parents had seen it.

 

The second video presentation started like a short film. There was an indistinct figure walking up some stairs in what looked like an apartment building. It was familiar, but Myka couldn’t quite place it. They knocked on a door, and a man answered. The camera was only shooting the bottom half of both figures, but then it moved, and Myka gasped as she realised it was Sam’s apartment. The other figure was Abigail. She knelt down suddenly and her arm snapped forward, and Sam suddenly collapsed, holding his crotch. As he fell to the floor he looked up at her, imploring.

 

“ _Why?_ ” he asked, his voice coming out in a squeak.

 

“ _You know why!_ ” Abigail said, half-hissing the words, and then she high-fived the cameraman, who it turned out was Pete. There was one last lingering shot of Sam lying on the floor, tears rolling down his face, and then it faded to black.

 

Claudia gave a short bow in acknowledgement of the applause. Some of the wedding party were confused as to what had happened in the video, not being acquainted with Sam and Myka’s past. But a nutpunch was a nutpunch, and even though Myka was so embarrassed that she didn’t think her skin would ever return to a normal colour, even she conceded it was funny. And kind of sweet, actually, that Abigail, Pete and Claudia would take on Sam for her.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would ask that you all raise your glasses once again and toast the happy couple. And let’s get their asses up here to dance. I haven’t seen you guys make out in, like, forever,” Claudia said. She had a huge, shit-eating grin on her face and Myka sighed. The girl would never change.

 

“Shall we, Mrs Wells?” Helena said, standing and holding out her hand to Myka.

 

“Absolutely, Mrs Bering,” Myka said, taking Helena’s hand. They made their way to the dance floor and Claudia put on an Elvis song before changing it to some sappy stuff by Ed Sheeran. They moved around the dance floor slowly in each other’s arms, smiling. Their life wasn’t perfect – not by a long chalk – but they were happy. They had the bookstore, enough money to keep them comfortable, and they had each other. Myka didn’t need anything else. She didn’t even need the money. Where Helena was – that was home.

 

The guests lifted their glasses just then, hitting them lightly with cutlery, and Helena smiled up at Myka.

 

“I think they want us to kiss, darling,” she said, shaking her head at Claudia who had clearly instigated the whole thing. “I don’t want to disappoint them.”

 

“Then let’s not,” Myka said, tilting her head down to kiss Helena gently, tasting the champagne on her tongue. Helena sucked a little on Myka’s tongue, and Myka gasped a little into her mouth. Helena _knew_ what that did to her. For revenge, she slid one hand downwards to cup Helena’s ass, turning their bodies so it was clear to their audience what she was doing. There was a roar of approval and then some applause. Helena moved back a little, her eyes twinkling.

 

“Bloody minx,” she said, and Myka laughed.

 

“You tease me, you get teased back,” Myka said, and Helena bit her lip and then pulled Myka’s head down for another kiss.

 

“Mrs and Mrs Bering-Wells, everybody!” Claudia said, and there was a general shout of “Cheers!” before the rest of the party joined them on the dance floor. It was a blur, but by the end of it they’d managed to get themselves to the edge of the dancefloor and then they slipped out with no-one the wiser.

 

They made it to the hotel room before they did anything more than kiss hungrily. They’d had enough of their escapades making it onto video for Claudia to exploit. Myka let Helena strip her before she did the same, kneeling at Helena’s feet and just looking at her. It never failed to amaze her that someone who looked like Helena would want her. Would love her. But Helena did, and Myka didn’t doubt that anymore. Helena had given her all to the bookstore, to Myka, since she came to Colorado. Helena loved her enough to give up everything she’d previously wanted – an easy life, money – all for Myka. Without asking for anything in return. That had been the thing that had really clinched it for Myka, oddly enough. Helena walking away from her after giving her the keys to the bookstore and all of the money Myka had won in Vegas. Helena knowing that Myka still didn’t want her, but giving up everything for her anyway.

 

“I love you,” Helena said, looking down at her, her expression unguarded. She swallowed heavily.

 

“I love you too, honey,” Myka said.

 

“This is it, for us, isn’t it?” Helena asked, and she looked so nervous that Myka stood, holding Helena by the upper arms gently.

 

“Of course. This is it. No more games, no more lies. Just you, and me, and hopefully a boring, happy life,” Myka said, and Helena smiled.

 

“Maybe not all that boring,” she said, with a devilish smirk, before lifting Myka off her feet and throwing her bodily onto the huge bed.

 

***

 

Myka was tired. Exhausted. More tired than she’d ever been in her life, and that included her time in New York, running around after Sam while trying to win a promotion. When they’d decided to adopt a child, she hadn’t really understood the amount of work it would entail. The lack of sleep, the constant worrying, the constant activity.

 

“Are you all right, darling?” Helena asked, looking at her in concern. “You look knackered.”

 

“I am,” Myka confessed. “She kept me up all night.”

 

“At one point in your life, saying those words might have been a boast,” Helena said, with a sly smile. Myka shook her head.

 

“Not today, I can tell you. And also, there’s gonna be none of that sort of business until I get some sleep.”

 

“Should only be a year or so, darling,” Helena said, before taking the small bundle from her arms. A bundle of joy, some called her, but she was also a bundle of poop, of crying, of vomit, and… okay, of joy, too.

 

“I’ll take her for a bit, love. You go and sleep. Fargo and Todd are working today. I’ll keep Catherine while I’m doing story time. She likes that, and so do the hot mums and dads, too. Might get us a sale or two,” Helena said, waggling her eyebrows lasciviously.

 

“Oh for the love of God,” Myka moaned. “You’re as bad as Pete.”

 

“Well, he has been around an awful lot, lately,” Helena agreed, grinning unrepentantly.

 

Myka made her way upstairs after waving vaguely at her wife and Fargo and Todd, all of whom were basically saving her ass. She was so tired she could barely think. Adopting Catherine was the best thing they’d ever done, next to getting married and buying the bookstore, at least. But it wasn’t without its sacrifices. Catherine’s mother had been a meth user and the girl was born early and way too small, with a cleft palate. She had the chance of developing a host of other problems too. But a visitor to the bookstore had told them about this tiny abandoned child who’d been dropped off at a fire station, of all things, and for whom things weren’t looking good. It took Myka a full day to get up the courage to ask Helena if she wanted to foster the baby once she was well enough, and Helena’s look of complete and utter relief was her answer. It took some doing, but almost a year later Catherine was thriving. And taking all of Myka’s energy with her.

 

Myka flopped belly-up on the bed and was asleep before she could even take off her boots.

 

Helena came up an hour later, popping Catherine carefully into her cot and taking off Myka’s shoes before covering her with a comforter. She brushed some hair from Myka’s eyes gently and smiled down at her (first and second) wife. Myka had changed her completely, and for the better. Helena would never be the same person she once was, selfish and shallow and concerned only with doing the least amount of work possible. She had found, in Vegas of all places, a woman who’d changed her life. It was a far cry from what she’d expected from her visit – she was expecting, at best, food poisoning and maybe an STD. But what she’d actually found there was a new life.

 

“Funny how these things work out, isn’t it, Cat?” she said, quietly, leaning down to kiss her daughter’s ridiculously cute face. “If you’re lucky, what happens in Vegas changes your life.”

 

She leaned down to kiss Myka’s brow gently and went back downstairs to wrangle her unruly mob of workers and customers, her mind already on her next book choice for her daily reading corner. Perhaps it was time to read something with a little more bite. But Colorado was still rather conservative. She wasn’t sure she’d get away with Philip Pullman here. Maybe some HG Wells, just for fun? She made a mental note to ask Myka, smiling without realising, her mind on business but her heart with the woman and girl upstairs.


End file.
